


It Was All Beautiful

by teenuviel1227



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Angst, Coming of Age, Eventual Smut, Feels, Fluff, JaehyungparkianIsEndgame, Love Triangle, M/M, Reply1988-inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-01-18 16:17:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 68,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12391683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenuviel1227/pseuds/teenuviel1227
Summary: It’s 2017 and Jae is about to marry the love of his life. As he gets ready, he thinks back to the year 2007--he and his friends are teenagers, their close-knit families all living in their small neighborhood of Ssangmun-dong in Seoul. They’re all frantic with the discovery of first love, getting amped up to graduate from high school and chase their dreams, figure out who they are. He thinks back to when he and his fiancee met, the things they’d gone through with their friends, and the new chapter in his life that’s about to begin in less than an hour.The question being: who is the groom?Or the Reply 1988-inspired AU where Jae is the quirky kid who can’t stop reading fiction novels in class, Dowoon is his activist-minded, super smart, sassy baby cousin, Sungjin is the responsible class president, Younghyun is the quiet, angsty, upfront-but-soft-hearted bad boy, and Wonpil? Wonpil is really good at Baduk.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a very, very slow burn, my friends. So strap yourselves in for the ride. I might be halting writing any other AUs while I work on this because I’m estimating at least 20 chapters but will add the figure when I’m sure. Ages have been adjusted to fit the time period.
> 
> I don’t want to spoil so I won’t talk about any Reply 1988-based opinions,etc. here so send questions about Team Taek/Team Junghwan, etc. to my [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227). 
> 
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)  
> [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)  
> The [ Reply 1988 OST playlist](https://goo.gl/kSNYU5) goes really well with this. Enjoy!
> 
> Chapter summaries are taken from “You Were Beautiful” (예뻤어) by Day6, translations taken from Color Coded Lyrics.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Without missing a single day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)   
>  [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)   
>  [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)

Jae stands in the hotel room, doing up the buttons on his crisp white shirt. The morning sun comes shining in through the thick, white curtains. On the bed, all of the trappings of his ensemble for the day are laid out for the photographers to get to before he puts them on--white vest, blazer, alabaster-on-teal orchid corsage, the blues and yellows tipping into green and then white. He can hear his friends horsing around in the living room of the suite that they’d rented for the wedding preparations. It’s the first time that they’ve all been together in years and the mood out there is festive, celebratory. In here, it’s a bit more quiet, Jae suddenly feeling sentimental as someone puts music on, starts playing an old Big Bang song, everyone singing along to the English backing vocals.

_I love you more, more._

He takes a deep breath, claiming a moment to think about what’s about to happen in less than an hour. _Less than an hour!_ He can’t stop grinning as he slips the sterling cufflinks shaped like small half-moons into their holes, fastens them before rubbing styling wax onto his palms and running a hand through his hair. He looks at himself in the mirror--dark-hair swept back, gold-rimmed glasses traded in for contacts for once, his bowtie still unfastened, hanging from his collar: here he is at twenty-seven, in the year 2017, on his wedding day. _Not bad, Park Jaehyung._ His heart skips a beat as he thinks of his fiance, the love of his life, getting ready in the room just down the hall: now, for the first time, he understands why the two people about to get married are kept from seeing each other before the ceremony. The anticipation is killing him. He grins, thinks of his fiance’s bright eyes and a mischievous smile, wonders if his hair is going to be worn brushed back or flopping into his eyes--gives up trying to choose which he prefers.

“Hey, hyung,” Dowoon says, peeking in through the bedroom window. “The photographers are ready. Did you put your cufflinks in?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, take them off again. They want a shot of you putting them on.”

Jae rolls his eyes but complies, trying to lay them as artfully as possible on the dresser. One of them rolls onto the carpet. Jae sighs, picks it up, hits his head on the dresser.

“Ah, fuck--”

“--it’s bad luck to swear on your wedding day, potty mouth. You’re going to have to kiss your husband with that mouth,” Sungjin says, coming up behind Dowoon and planting a soft kiss on the top of Dowoon’s head.

“Says the guy who was calling the caterer at his own wedding a _little shit_ and an _absolute imbecile_ for forgetting to bring the silver ice bucket thing for the champagne,” Jae says pointedly.

Sungjin grins, sheepish. “Well, I just wanted everything to be perfect. You know how _someone_ gets when things are less than ideal--”

“--Park Sungjin,” Dowoon says, turning to face his husband, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you implying that I’m unreasonably demanding?”

Sungjin sighs in exasperation but when he speaks, his voice is soft, fond. “Of course not.”

Dowoon smiles smugly before heading back out into the living room. “Good. Now, hurry up, hyung. These pictures have to be perfect and we have to run over there in--”--he glances at his watch--”--exactly fourteen or so minutes or your groomzilla is going to have our heads on a spike.”

Jae grins, his mind drifting back to trying to imagine his groom, his fiancee, his husband-to-be all dapper and dressed up and gorgeous. His heart is filled with so much love it almost feels overwhelming, especially after everything that they’d been through over the years: the heartache, the struggling to achieve their dreams, the fighting to be together.

“By the way,” Sungjin says softly. “ _He_ \--well, you-know-who--his flight is coming in a little later than expected but he says he’ll get dressed at the airport and make it in time to meet us at the ballroom.”

“You can say his _name,_ you know. It’s been years, we’re all okay with each other.”

“Right. Sorry. It just stresses me out a bit. It’s the first time we’re all going to be together since, well--”

“--I know, I know. But I saw him last year at that thing in New York, remember? We talked it over, we’re fine.”

“If you say so.”

Sungjin claps him on the shoulder before going to join Dowoon in the other room.

Jae turns back to the mirror, setting the stray cufflink back on the marbled dresser surface. _Right._ He hears the photographers pulling open cases that click, testing out shutter speeds, experimenting with aperture, the sound of  a camera having at it, playing with image and light, coming in through the open door. With that, Jae finds himself thinking back, back, to ten years ago--when everything began on a day not unlike this one.  


 

The year is 2007. On a quiet but relatively busy street in Ssangmun-dong, Seoul, three houses sit across from each other, their gates the same matching rusty-brown. At the end of the street, the corner store blasts _Lies_ by Big Bang, the sound of the pulsing bass filling the air, the pop chorus going _I’m so sorry but I love you_ to the backdrop of children playing, the ice cream cart going by in the distance. Cars drive down the main road. It’s the last day of summer, right before the school year starts. In the case of four eighteen-year-olds and one fifteen-and-a-half year old, the start of their last year of highschool.

The first house is the biggest, at three storeys high, housing two families: in the main house, there are the Kangs, richest on their street after coming into money via way of the lottery--there are shrewd but generous Mr. And Mrs. Kang, and there is their son Younghyun, nicknamed “the fox” because he is extremely clever at everything (ironically, the Kangs have never had to pay a single Won for his schooling) but also tended to bite your head off if you asked him the wrong thing at the wrong time or if you didn’t know the proper steps to whatever dance you were supposed to be learning on that afternoon--he’s quick-tempered, often scolded by his mother for not being sweet enough.

In the basement, which has its own meter for electricity and water, live the California (CA for short) Parks, who rent the unit from the Kangs--there are Mrs. Park and Mr. Park, business people who came home after years living in the US to help Mrs. Park’s sister out when she was sick. Upon her death, they’d paid off a substantial amount of her debt and lost a lot of their money. Both the Parks are sweet and hardworking--motivated mostly by their son Jaehyung (errr, nickname: Jae), known mostly for being the one kid on the block who can’t read hangul to save his life (actual nickname: Chicken Little, after the cartoon) and whose head is always lost in those English novels (oddly enough, often translations originally by asian authors) he likes to read instead of his schoolwork. Their nephew Dowoon (the aforementioned maternal sister’s only son) also lives with the California Parks, known for his genius-level intellect, brashness, and merciless honesty (his greatest hit to date telling one very disgruntled Mrs. Park that the designer velvet dress she bought did, _in fact_ , make her look kind of like a throw pillow).

Across the street, the bungalow upon whose gate hangs a giant tarpaulin of Lee Min Ho in a school uniform that tends to droop from the uppermost corner is home to one widowed Mrs. Park, nicknamed Miss Park--an inside joke between the parents on the block for the young widow, who always had a number of suitors trying (and failing) to win her heart. She lives with her son, Sungjin, the neighborhood’s sweetheart: class president at the boys’ high school, honor student (second in class only to Younghyun who no one in their right mind would vote class president), the school’s ambassador to a number of out-of-city functions and summits.

Last but not the least, beside the bungalow is the small split-level whose front doubles as a musical instruments store--sleek pianos, shiny acoustic guitars hanging from the walls on meticulously kept hooks. The rear gate opens up into the main house--here, the widower Mr. Kim lives with his son, Wonpil, South Korea’s prized Baduk player. Quiet but talkative with his friends, Wonpil is the neighborhood’s baby. Even if he’s older than Dowoon, they all treat him with a special kind of fondness--first, because he quit school during Freshman year to play Baduk professionally and they hardly get to see him, second, because he always buys Tteokbokki with his competition money, and third, they all suspect that while he is a genius at Baduk, he actually knows absolutely nothing about real life.

On this particular day in 2007, five boys sit transfixed in front of the television set in the Kims’ den, eyes wide as they watch the screen. On the small, low table between them, a steaming plate of tteokbokki sits, five pairs of chopsticks resting on the rim of the white ceramic plate.

“Okay,” Younghyun says, hitting pause on the remote control. He stands up to demonstrate. “Okay, I totally get it now. You move your hands up--one and two and three--and then step backward a little bit while you’re singing the chorus. So you go _I’m so sorry but I love you--_ ”

Sungjin grins, stands up to copy what Younghyun’s doing. “Okay. One, two. And one two three--”

“--wait! Wait, wait, wait!” Jae jumps up to to join them, all awkward limbs and stumbling feet, almost knocking over the table, the ceramic trembling against the metal chopsticks.

“OY!” Dowoon snaps, steadying the table with one hand. “Careful!”

“Who’s the hyung here, Dowoonie?” Jae snaps back, taking his place beside Younghyun.

“Birth order is overrated,” Dowoon retorts. “And I _act_ more like a hyung. You didn’t even take down the math homework. I swear to god if you weren’t good at English, you would probably end up being at the bottom of our class.”

“Yeah? Well. Younghyun is still top of the class and Sungjin is still President what has that Math homework gotten you, _really_ ? And whose piggy bank did you have to crack to get your ears pierced? Whose part time job at the music store paid for those sterlings sitting in your earlobes, Yoon Dowoon? Do you really think that Mom and Dad would’ve let you get the earrings if _I_ didn’t already have the--”

“--they would’ve done it eventually! I turn sixteen this year which means next year I turn seventeen which means--”

“--which means you owe me big time--”

Wonpil sighs, picks his chopsticks up and eats a mouthful of tteok.

“--oy, Park Jaehyung, are you joining or not?” Sungjin asks, nodding to Brian’s left side, momentarily vacant.

“What’s a guy gotta do to get some respekt?” Jae glares at Dowoon a last time before taking his place behind Brian.

“The real conclusion to this argument is that you’re _both_ idiots.” Younghyun clicks his tongue. “Now okay. You guys saw what I did right? So let’s go. Five, six, five, six, seven eight-- _I’m so sorry--but I love you_ \--”

Younghyun takes for crisscross steps back, moving his torso in a slight wave, arms coming up in a small, pulsing motion. Jae tries to follow suit but  loses his balance a little on the upstep, not sure how Younghyun and Sungjin are making their bodies cooperate.

Wonpil grins, watching Jae flail his arms around anyway, singing along and shaking his body to the beat, completely giving up on following the prescribed steps. Wonpil pretends to consider them all before pointing at Jae. “Park Jaehyung is my bias.”

Sungjin clicks his tongue, still trying to dance despite the fact that Jae has taken to just jumping around and singing the main melody of the song. “Don’t encourage him.”

Jae laughs, pauses, breathless before plopping down beside Wonpil. “ _Thank you,_ Pil. See? This nation’s top Baduk player can appreciate my dancing but you idiots can’t? HAH. Well. Who’s the real winner here?"

“Wonpil’s just an idiot. All he knows is how to play Baduk! He thinks you’re _funny_ , because, newsflash, you can’t dance,” Younghyun remarks, tone pointed but grinning at the way that Jae imitates G-Dragon, moving his hair to one side and pretending the spoon is a mic.

“You think you're a dancing guru or something! The only thing _you_ know to say is to call everyone an idiot,” Jae snaps, picking up his jacket and swinging it over his neck in imitation of GDragon’s scarf during their comeback stage.

Younghyun lets out a laugh despite himself. _He looks ridiculous._ “What the hell are you doing?”

“For today, you can call me...Kwon Jae-yong--”

“--I’m going to murder you,” Dowoon says, spooning some tteokbokki into his mouth before twisting open a bottle of cider. “That’s the worst joke that I’ve ever heard.”

Sungjin watches Dowoon’s arm flex as the cap comes away with a fizz. Dowoon drinks the soda before he puts it down, catches Sungjin’s eye. “What are _you_ looking at?”

“Nothing,” Sungjin says, quickly averting his gaze.

“T.O.P. is better,” Younghyun says, plopping down on the floor and taking a swig of cider before digging into the tteokbokki too. “He can _actually_ rap.”

“HAH,” Jae snaps back. “You call that rap? Well, guess who’s being an idiot now because if he was so good then why didn’t they pick him as the leader, huh?”

“I like Daesung ‘cause he doesn’t have stage name,” Wonpil says.

Younghyun laughs. “You can’t just like him for _that,_ Pillie.”

“I think Taeyang is the best,” Sungjin says, shrugging. “His voice. Wow.”

“Call me JaeDragon--”

“--die.” Dowoon sets his cutlery down with a clatter.

“What stage name would you guys choose if you got famous for singing?” Wonpil asks, watching as Jae scarfs down about a quarter of the tteok.

“Sungsing-nim,” Sungjin says, laughing. “Then everyone would be afraid of you.”

Dowoon smiles despite himself. “Jesus Christ.”

“Hrrrrm.” Jae chews thoughtfully. “I can’t pick Jae-Dragon so maybe--yellowpostitman?”

Younghyun snorts soda through his nose. “Oh my god. You really _are_ an idiot. What kind of name is _that_? No one would ever remember that stage name. Ever. Not even the smartest man on Earth--”

"--what kind of smartest man wouldn't remember three simple words--"

“--well, I have the _best_ stage name answer,” Younghyun interjects.

Jae rolls his eyes. “What.”

Younghyun grins, smug. “YoungK.”

“For killjoy?”

“For killed Park Jaehyung if he doesn’t shut up.”

“Your stagename should be Brian.”

“Why _Brian_?” Sungjin asks. “Like the Backstreet boy?”

A wicked grin spreads across Jae’s face. “Like the dog from Family Guy. He’s always sarcastic and rational and thinks everyone is an idiot. That’s basically Younghyun. Younghyun is Brian.”

Younghyun opens his mouth to say something sarcastic, realizes saying something at this point will only prove Jae right. “Young _K._ ”

There’s a moment of silence as they all chew, finish off the tteokbokki.

“I’d remember,” Wonpil says after they’re done, all the tteok finished. Outside, the sun is starting to set. They hear Mrs. Kang calling for Younghyun from the street.

“What?”

“Yellowpostitman.”

“Wonpillie,” Jae says, shoving a tetra pack of milk at Wonpil. “You have to drink up and get stronger so that one day I can marry you.”

“Hah,” Younghyun says, getting up. “Fat chance. Wonpillie is the country’s number one Baduk player. Why would he marry _you_?”

Jae and Dowoon stand up too as Jae’s dad joins in the yelling for them to come in for dinner.

“One day, Kang Younghyun,” Jae says. “I’m going to be so famous and successful and handsome, _you’re_ gonna want to marry _me._ ”

“I’d rather die.” With that, Younghyun turns, walks out of Wonpil's living room and into the street. The rest of them except Wonpil, follow close behind as twilight settles over the neighborhood.

 

 

Jae grins as he watches the photography team come in to take photos of the ensemble. Dowoon claps him on the shoulder. “The big day, huh.”

“The big freaking day.”

“Did you ever think things would turn out like _this_ ?” Dowoon asks, half-laughing. “I was thinking about it the other day when we were in the kitchen and Sungjin was making pancakes--I never in a _billion_ years thought that I would end up marrying Park Sungjin. Of _all_ the freaking people that we know.”

“I always kinda thought it made sense. You guys balance each other out.”

Dowoon grins. “You mean _he_ balances me out. He's so nice, he's in fifty places at once trying to help people out today.”

“Hey, you didn’t hear it from me.”

Dowoon grins despite himself. “No what I meant was did you ever think at any point back then that _you two_ would end up together?”

Jae opens his mouth to answer but at that moment, the photographers turn to him.

“Mr. Park, your turn. We’re going to try and do a slow, cinematic sweep of you putting on the blazer. Look happy, look like you’ve seen your husband walk through the door.”

An involuntary smile tugs at Jae’s lips despite him wanting to be disgruntled at the thought of his fiancee. “Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up by next week.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)   
>  [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)   
>  [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)

“Canada?” Younghyun repeats over the dinner table. He blinks again, not quite sure about what’s just been said. He looks down at his bowl of kimchi jigae.  _ What the hell is in Canada?  _ The name of the place recalls images of Nescafe big packs and bulk pasta shipments that their relatives liked to send over on Christmas.

His mom and dad hold hands over the floral placemat, glance at each other nervously. He sighs, knows that they’re both holding their breath, both waiting for him to storm off or say something mean or to storm off, slamming the door to his room behind him. He holds his tongue, tries to consider the worry that’s painted across their faces. 

“Let us explain,” Mrs. Kang says, leaning forward. “We’ve been thinking about moving to Toronto ever since your Uncle Leonard--”

“--you mean Uncle Junghyun?” 

“Yes, well, Leonard is his English name. We’ve been thinking of going ever since he got his green card. There are a lot of opportunities for us over there. Your uncle has connections, you could get a global education--we don’t want to sit back on the lottery money forever, Younghyunnie. We got lucky once but we have to work hard to keep that. It’s not like we’re going to blindside you with it--it won’t be until the summer. You’ll still get to finish senior year with your friends but instead of preparing for the college exams on D-Day, you’ll be preparing for the IELTS.” 

“IELTS?” Younghyun frowns. “What’s that?”

“The International English Language Testing System,” Mr. Kang says. 

Younghyun’s eyebrows furrow. “But I don’t even speak English. I can say  _ hello, how are you? Fine thank you, how about you?  _ Unless that’s what’s going to be on the test, I don’t think I can--”

“--we’ve thought about that as well,” Mrs. Kang says, reaching over the table to take Younghyun’s hand. “And we think that you’ll be fine with the arrangement. It’s going to be great for everyone involved.”

“Are we going to dupe the system? Because I don’t want to go to Canada illegally. I didn’t work hard for my scholarship to be arrested at immigration.”

His parents burst out laughing. 

“This kid,” his mom says, clutching her stomach.

“Sometimes you’re too clever for your own good,” Mr. Kang says, still shaking a little from the laughter. “Everything will be done legally of course but what we mean is that we found you a really good English tutor.” 

“An English tutor?” Younghyun repeats. “But I want to major in Mathematics. I’m a  _ mathlete. _ I need time to focus on tournaments--”

“--it’s only going to be an hour a day. It can be before or after dinner. You’re a fast learner. You always pretend like you don’t care but I know how hardworking you are, how studious you are. At the end of this year, you’ll be speaking English like it’s your first language.” 

“It’s not about ability,” Younghyun says. “It’s about  _ time.  _ How am I going to have the time to do mathlete drills and study for tests  _ and  _ go to some tutorial place in Hongdae or wherever? The commute alone would kill any time I have left to do homework. Do you think that Wonpillie got really good at Baduk by doing all of these other things? No. He quit  _ school _ to funnel all his attention into playing Baduk.  _ That’s  _ how you get good. You have to focus.”

“Younghyun,” his father says, voice stern now. “What do Cecilia Krieger, John Charles Fields, and Manjul Bhargava all have in common?”

Younghyun sighs, knows where this is going. “I don’t know.”

“Oh come on.” 

He sighs, mumbles under his breath. “They’re all Canadian.” 

“Exactly,” his father leans back in his seat. “There are career opportunities over there that aren’t open for us here. We could start businesses, your mom could finally start doing the things that she wants, sewing her dresses and suits.” 

“And anyway,” his mom says. “You don’t have to go to some tutorial center. You don’t have to make new friends, you don’t have to do anything like that because the tutor will come here.” 

“Like those Austrian kids from Sound of Music? You got me a  _ governess _ ?” 

His mom bursts out laughing. “No. You how the California Parks--”

“--oh no,” Younghyun says, straightening up in his seat, catching onto what’s going to happen. “No, no, no, no, no.”

“Younghyun!” His mom says, her voice shrill now. “ You don’t have to be so rude about it. Would it really  _ kill  _ you to take the damn lessons? You know that the California Parks have been looking to get out of debt and they’re very nice, hardworking people so we would never offend them by refusing their rent or by just  _ giving _ them money which we’ve been wanting to do since  _ we  _ were living in that tiny apartment with them three years ago. So we figure, we can tell them that we’ll pay Jae a substantial amount for the English lessons, given that he gives a percentage of it to his parents which I’m sure he’ll do anyway.  Maybe with this money, they can stop paying Jaehyung and Dowoon’s tuitions on promissory notes every quarter. Maybe he can buy a couple more of those books that he loves. The boy is a little eccentric but his heart is in the right place, isn’t it, Younghyunnie? He’s your  _ friend. _ ” 

Younghyun frowns, thinking of those couple of years pre-winning-the-lottery when they’d lived in a tiny two-bedroom with the CA Parks. Mrs. Park was always making things for them even when they were short on cash: rice cakes, tteok, cheon, simple fried egg on rice. Mr. Park was always helping him out with his football practice, teaching him different sports techniques that he’d picked up when they were living in Los Angeles. 

Jae was annoying as ever (still is) but always let Younghyun read his comics with him, translating the captions as they went, never snapping at him whenever he couldn’t keep up with the English characters. And of course there was Dowoon: sad and scared back then with his mom just having passed away, still abrasive and too direct, but sweet deep down--instinctively compassionate, always sharing whatever snacks or chips he was able to afford. Younghyun’s heart aches at the thought of them living downstairs purely out of bad luck, of them refusing any financial aid offered to them, of them taking on Dowoon even if he technically wasn’t their responsibility, of how they’d never treated him like he didn’t belong or like he was a burden.

Younghyun sighs, defeated. “Fine.” 

  
  


“Fine?” Jae asks Dowoon as they walk to the bus stop on the way to school. It’s a little bit earlier than usual, the sun still pale in the morning sky, the air crisp, cool.“What do you mean  _ fine _ ? It’s fucking great! This is the best prize that the school has come up with in fifty million thousand years. The talent show prize last year was a  _ pumpkin latte  _ for crying out loud. Who wants a pumpkin latte? But Big Bang’s new CD that has a raffle ticket to possibly seeing them in concert? It’s better than getting  _ money.  _ And not a lot of things are better than getting money, Dowoonie. If I ever get to meet G Dragon or be in the direct vicinity of his sweat or breathe the same air as him, I’m going to die. If he shakes my hand, I’m  _ never _ going to wash it. Never, ever going to wash it.” 

“Well, that’s  _ one  _ way to catch a venereal disease, hyung.” 

“Is that your way of saying that  _ no _ you won’t join the talent show with me? You said it yourself. I’m your  _ hyung. _ I raised you from when you were a baby--”

“--I was  _ twelve _ \--”

“--you were an  _ eleven _ -year-old with missing front teeth and I--”

“--stole my favorite socks and then beat me at basketball after and then called me short--”

“--it’s not my fault I’m a pro. But seriously. Please.  _ Please,  _ Dowoonie. We need two people at least to join. You’re my +1. I’ll take you to the concert! I’ll give you one of my Jiyong photo cards.”

Dowoon shrugs. “I’m not that into them.” 

Jae crinkles his nose. “Don’t tell me you like Super Junior better.” 

Dowoon rolls his eyes. “KPop is literally government propaganda. Do you know how much money the big corporations make? How much of that they funnel into the government? They want it to go into tourism so that they can gaslight the bigger things that’re happening like the gentrification of Seoul and the fact that materialism--” 

Jae sighs, grabs Dowoon by the shoulders, looks down into his eyes. “Yoon Dowoon, please tell me that you aren’t still going to those rallies. It’s dangerous, you know. I mean obviously it isn’t the middle ages or anything but  _ policemen  _ are on standby at those things. Not security guards, policemen. If you get arrested or beat up or whatever, it’ll show on your permanent record and you won’t be able to get into a good college even if your grades are what they are.” 

Dowoon looks at the concerned expression on Jae’s face before wriggling out of his grasp and walking toward the bus stop. “Don’t worry, I won’t. It’ll be fine.” 

“Fine,” Jae mutters under his breath, following Dowoon to the stop where a bus has just left, leaving them in its dusty wake. “I’m starting to really, really fucking hate that word.” 

“Hey, Chicken Little.” 

Jae looks up to see Kang Younghyun leaning on the post by the bus stop, his bag slung over one shoulder, first three buttons of his polo shirt undone to show off his dog tag necklace, the silver glinting in the morning sunshine. Any other morning, Jae would’ve let the nickname get to him, maybe would’ve picked a playfight with Younghyun--but not today. Today is different. A grin creeps across his face.

Today is his first day as Younghyun’s English teacher. Well, technically.

“How’s my favorite English student, eyyyy? Are you ready, Mr. Kang Younghyun? Or rather, Mr. Younghyun Kang? To go from Sarcastic Mr. Fox to English-speaking extraordinaire? Poet? Artiste?” 

Younghyun rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Are you going to call me Seonsaeng-nim? Can I make you kneel on a spread of uncooked rice if you get the answers wrong?”

“Only if you promise to call me Lord God Master Dancer while you’re teaching me.” 

“OH MY GOD, that’s it,” Jae says, an idea suddenly dawning on him. He grabs Younghyun’s wrist. Younghyun blinks, staring into Jae’s eyes as he’s jerked forward, their faces suddenly a little bit too close for comfort. Honey-brown under coke-bottle frames. “Younghyun. You’re perfect.” 

“--what the hell are you--”

“--perform with me. Talent show. Big Bang CD, concert tickets.” 

“What?” 

The bus rumbles as it approaches. 

“You’re always talking about how talented you are. So sing with me at the talent show so we can finally see them live.” 

“You’re out of your mind.” 

“Why not? What do you have to lose?”

“Time, for one--”

“--but Lord God Master Dancer--”

“--I have mathletes and--”

“--think of T.O.P. Think of the lights out, a sea of violet as we wait for the music to start--” Jae waves his hand with a flourish. “--and then out of nowhere-- _ Love is pain-- _ ”

“--but that would mean having to sing with  _ you _ \--”

“--hey, I can’t dance but I can  _ sing _ \--”

The bus stops in front of them, brakes screeching. Sungjin runs past all of them, clambering onto the bus. “Hurry up, you idiots. We’re going to be late!” 

Dowoon follows him, slipping into the seat beside Sungjin. 

Jae pulls Younghyun into the bus, cramming them into the two front seats--Jae by the window, Younghyun by the aisle. 

“Silence means yes.”

He glances at Jae. Sunlight pours in through the window as they pass by the river. Jae’s dark hair brushes the frames of his glasses. He leans back against the seat, head tipped back. Younghyun looks outside, thinks about Canada--about how these coming bus rides would be their last together. He lets out a small sigh. 

“Okay.” Younghyun takes his earphones from his blazer pocket, sticks one in his right ear, the other in Jae’s left one and starts to play  _ A Fool’s Only Tears.  _

A slow smile spreads across Jae’s face--and Younghyun realizes he is smiling too.

  
  


“You’re doing it wrong,” Sungjin says, watching as Jae struggles with tying a red ribbon around the small paper bag that they’d filled with small bottles of instant coffee, a couple of Wonpil’s favorite biscuits, chips, a couple of tetra packs of strawberry milk, some comics that Jae had insisted he would like, some political pamphlets that Dowoon said Wonpil would need to keep him from becoming a recluse, a secret package wrapped in brown paper and double-taped tight that Younghyun wouldn’t divulge the contents of to anyone else, a bright pink microfiber face towel from Sungjin that he said was perfect because all Baduk players he’d seen on TV  _ except  _ Wonpil seemed to have one. 

The attached card says  _ GOODLUCK, BADUK CHAMPION!  _ in Sungjin’s neat handwriting.

Classes have just ended, all of them standing outside the convenience store just a couple of blocks away from school. 

“I think it’s cute,” Jae says, looking at he sloppily tied red ribbon dangling from the handles of the paper bag. 

“It looks terrible,” Sungjin says, frowning. “I would be embarrassed to give that to anyone.” 

Jae shrugs. “It looks--homemade, unique, artisanal.”

“Well, that’s alright,” Dowoon says. “Because you’re the one bringing it to Pillie anyway, hyung.” 

“Me?” Jae asks, outraged. “I have--things to do--extracurriculars--”

“Like what?” Sungjn asks. “Comics and novels don’t count. I have a student council meeting later so it can’t be me.” 

“But I’m teaching Younghyun--” 

Younghyun catches Jae’s eye, shakes his head--code for  _ shut up _ . 

“--a song,” Jae says quickly. “For the talent show.” 

“Oh god, not this again.” Dowoon groans. “They’re doing it for the Big Bang CD and concert tickets.” 

“Why doesn’t Dowoonie bring it?” Younghyun asks. 

“I’m busy--”

“--go to a protest and I swear, I’ll tell--”

“--I’m  _ not  _ going to a protest.” 

“Why don’t we just bring it?” Younghyun asks, kicking a pebble off the sidewalk and into the gutter. 

Jae shoots him a quizzical look. “Okayyyyy.”

 

 

“Wahhhh,” Wonpil says, pulling the pink microfiber towel out of the paper bag, putting it over his shoulders. “I feel like a real professional now.” 

“Pssh,” Jae says. “Aren’t you going to compliment the ribbon? Doesn’t it look artisanal? Fresh? Wonderful? Not-store-bought?”

Wonpil grins, punctures the strawberry milk with a straw. “I know you guys bought this at the 7/11.” 

Younghyun pats Wonpil on the back. “Pillie is too smart to be fooled. He knows you’re just really bad at tying stuff--and that we couldn’t afford to get it gift-wrapped.” 

Wonpil pulls out Jae’s gift, flipping through the comics excitedly. 

“They’re in English,” Younghyun points out. “You can’t even read them.” 

Jae grins sheepishly. “Well, I couldn’t read the hangul on the other comics fast enough. What if I was giving him something that sucked? At least this way, he knows that I know it’s good.” 

“It’s okay,” Wonpil says, grinning. “I bias yellowpostitman. Anything he does is perfect.” 

“OH MY GOD, speaking of bias,” Jae says, turning to Wonpil. “Could Brian and I borrow one of the guitars in the store on Thursday? And maybe the piano? We have to practice for the school talent show. We might be able to see Big Bang.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Younghyun says. “And don’t call me Brian.” 

“You’re going to go to Canada soon which means they’ll probably make you pick an Engli--” 

“--Park Jaehyung, shut the f--” 

“--you’re going to Canada?” Wonpil turns to Younghyun, eyes wide. “When?” 

Younghyun sighs, shoots Jae a dirty look. “Don’t get all sentimental on me, Pillie. It’s still far off. And anyway, I’m sure we’ll visit all the time. It’s just--opportunities and business. You know, all those adult-y sounding things.” 

Wonpil frowns, looking unconvinced but nods anyway, knowing better than to pick a fight with Younghyun. “What did  _ you  _ get me?”

Younghyun grins, reaches into the bag and hands Wonpil the rectangle-shaped box. 

Wonpil’s face lights up. “Ahhh. Thank you." 

Younghyun flashes him a thumbs up. “I’ve got you, bro." 

“What’s that?” Jae asks, looking at the two of them and then the mysterious package. 

“Nothing,” both of them say quickly. 

“It’s--a thing,” Wonpil says, grinning. 

Younghyun nods. “A  _ secret _ thing and you can’t keep a secret to save your life so we are not telling you.” 

“Pillie!” Jae exclaims, tackling Wonpil suddenly, getting him in a playful headlock. Wonpil lets out a laugh. “I THOUGHT I WAS YOUR BIAS! Tell me or I’ll bite the part of your brain that loves Baduk and you won’t be able to compete.” 

Wonpil shakes his head. “I already made 60 Million Won in the past year so it really doesn’t matter.” 

Jae rolls his eyes but releases Wonpil. “Show off.” 

Wonpil sits back up, grins at Younghyun and sticks out his pinky. “We’ll never tell him.”

Younghyun lets out a laugh, wraps his pinky around Wonpil’s. “Pinky fucking promise.”

“I hate you two.” Jae’s tone is brash but he’s smiling. 

They don’t answer, just watch as Jae packs up Wonpil’s paper bag, taking care to put things back in order the best he can. The late afternoon sun plays off of his milk-and-honey skin. His dark hair is illuminated ebony in the sunshine--he is all ink on alabaster, the night illuminating marble. 

Younghyun nurtures a seedling thought in his mind, a strange feeling blooming in his heart. He’s suddenly not too upset about any of the coming weeks. He wonders how the first English lesson will go, wonders how the talent show will go, wonders most of all, why sitting next to Park Jaehyung is suddenly driving him crazy. But Younghyun has always been quick, smart as a fox: he suspects that maybe it’s because of his own secret, the one thing that Younghyun will tell no one--not even Wonpil: in all actuality, he thinks Park Jaehyung is  _ the  _ shit. He’s perfect. Smart, funny, kind, handsome. An involuntary smile spreads across Younghyun’s face as Jae ties the ribbon in the exact same sloppy way, big hands trying to get it the way it was in the diagrams and coming up with something completely different. And as Younghyun pulls his pinky from Wonpil’s, he sees it for the first time: Wonpil is smiling at Jae too, eyes soft, fond as he watches Jae look up from under his fringe.

“Excellent, am I right?”

Younghyun feels a strange pang in his chest. 

_ I bias Park Jaehyung.  _

Younghyun smiles sadly as he slips the pack of cigarettes wrapped in recycled brown paper and sealed in duct tape into Wonpil’s hands. 

_ Well, fuck.  _

  
  


Sungjin’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He has his blazer hanging over one arm, sleeves rolled up, his suspenders in danger of coming loose. The entire day has been extremely tiring--something about the photographers accidentally leaving some equipment for the same-day edit in the van currently headed for Ilsan. He sighs as he reads the name on the screen.  _ And of course, the delayed plane.  _

“You’ve landed?” 

On the other end of the line, an old friend’s voice laughs. 

“Just got out of immigration. Do I go straight to the ballroom or meet you guys at the hotel first?” 

“Are you planning on being there before the damn groom?”

“God, sorry--okay. I think your husband is rubbing off on you. Anyway--I’m getting in a cab. See you soon.” 

“See you. Also--can I say I really admire you still taking up the offer of being Best Man. I know it probably wasn’t easy.” 

“You know me. I never met a problem I didn’t like. And anyway. I’d do anything for my friends.” 

“I know. Take care, idiot.” 

Sungjin grins into the receiver, hoping like hell he doesn’t cry at the ceremony.  _ Dowoon will be so pissed--I didn’t cry at our wedding.  _

Laughter and then a click. Sungjin hits the button on the elevator, heading down to the basement parking lot to check on the wedding car. He slips on his Bluetooth earpiece, hits play on his music app. Girls Generation’s  _ Into The New World _ blasts in his ears. Sungjin taps his foot to the beat, still knows the dance steps in his mind. 

_ How did it all go by so fast?  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's still early in the game. ;) Also, an update: I've made up my mind who the groom is. 
> 
> Next chapter soonest.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I remember, so I'm just saying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)   
>  [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)   
>  [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)

Dowoon glances over his shoulder, watches as Jae and Younghyun’s silhouettes disappear onto the bus, makes like he’s about to head into the chicken shop around the corner until the vehicle passes him by, its blue body disappearing in the distance--and then he makes a sharp left, counts to ten before hurrying into the underground, his metrocard already in hand. Helping a friend out at the chicken shop, he’d told them: lame excuse, but it’d have to do. It would buy him at least two more hours, thirty minutes of which would cut into dinner. The protest is happening a couple of stations away at Gwanghwamun Square, right by the government offices where they could make their point the best--students and employees are against the US expansion of its military bases in South Korea, something that Dowoon is very passionate about.

Moving to Seoul as a kid, things hadn’t been easy. His aunt and uncle and cousin (hyung, he corrects in his mind) were the nicest people that he’d ever met but for that period in time before the Kangs struck gold, all of them--as educated and smart and hardworking as they all were--lived inside that shoebox apartment. And for what? So they could be near all the good business opportunities, so they could all try and make money without having money to make it with. Land is too expensive, Dowoon thinks, a line forming between his brows as he scans his card by the counter. _They’re making us pay for what is supposed to be free--like that Counting Crowes song. Took all the trees put ‘em in a tree museum. And they charged the people a dollar and a half to see them._

He rents out a locker, takes off his school blazer, his uniform, his Identification card, tosses everything in and pulls on a nondescript gray hoodie (one of Jae’s--not that he would ever find out), a face mask. He scans the card again. The light on the unit turns green and then red. Locked.

Dowoon slips the card back into his pocket, scanning his transport card again and taking the escalator down into the platform. Once there, he watches the kids on the train--all of them wearing kpop merchandise of some sort (hoodies, t-shirts, ID lanyards) or sporting imported brands (Guess, Juicy Couture). He frowns. Sheep.

“Does Jaehyung know you have that hoodie on?”

Dowoon jolts, almost jumping out of his skin. He looks behind him to find Park Sungjin standing there, a smirk on his face. His thumbs are hooked into the straps of his backpack.

“What the hell you scared me--”

“--I thought you were going to help at the chicken shop,” Sungjin says, raising an eyebrow.

“And I thought you were going to go to a Student Council meeting,” Dowoon counters.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Dowoon smirks, looking away, watching his reflection instead on the sliding door partition between the tube and the platform. “As if.”

Sungjin chuckles despite himself.

Dowoon shoots him a quizzical look. “What’s so funny?”

“Why don’t you ever call us hyung, Dowoonie? I mean, except Jae, obviously. You really should. We’re all a good two years older than you.”

“It’s part of an obsolete honor system to base one’s merit on age,” Dowoon says, grinning as the digital clock above them blinks. Next train in three minutes. “I mean, think about it. I’m younger than all of you but I’m on the same grade level. I’m not saying you guys aren’t smart but I think we’re all good on a friend level, you know?”

Sungjin’s eyes are wide. “DOWOON! Was that a roundabout way of calling me stupid? I’m your class president! I’m an honor student too! And I’m two whole years older--”

“--oh come on. Don’t take me so seriously.” Dowoon waves a hand dismissively, grins. “And I never said anything about stupidity. Those are your words, not mine.”

The train pulls into the station.

“Hey, I think that kid’s lost,” Dowoon says, pointing to something just behind Sungjin. Sungji turns to look--and Dowoon runs into the nearest train entrance, hiding himself behind two tall strangers, peeking between them as the train doors shut. He watches as Sungjin talks to the kid on the platform, directing him toward the security office and then looks back, scanning the platform for Dowoon, confused.

Dowoon grins fondly to himself. _You can always count on Park Sungjin to do the right thing._

 

“B...R...I...A..N...?” Younghyun looks up from the notebook, confused. “I don’t remember that being on the flashcards.”

_Brian plays guitar._

He’d stayed up the night before going through all of the flashcards of the basic verbs that Jae had given him the past week. If there’s anything that Younghyun knows about himself it’s that if he puts his mind to something, he’ll most probably master it. They’d sped through nouns and simple sentences during the first week--Jae had also been speaking to him in English when they were alone which definitely helped. Now, they’re tackling verbs and adjectives.

Jae laughs beside him on the bed. They’re sitting cross-legged, perpendicular to each other. Younghyun is sitting up with his back against the headboard, Jae slumped against the adjacent wall, long legs sprawled across the bed but not quite touching the floor. He’s hugging one of Younghyun’s stuffed toys to his chest.

“Come on, genius brain. You can do it. You already read the rest of the sentence so tell me what it means.”

“What is a B-R-I-A-N though? It doesn’t mean anything.” Younghyun tries to say it again. “B--”

“--harder on the ‘B’ it isn’t like our muted ‘B’ which sounds like a ‘P’ you have to give it some force with your lips. Watch mine when I say boy,” Jae says.

Younghyun feels a blush creep over his cheeks as he watches Jae’s lips move, pursing on the o before spreading back out into his signature smile on the y. His heart is racing his chest. Jesus Christ, get a grip. “So it’s Br--ee--ey--n? What does that mean?”

Jae’s eyes twinkle mischievously. “Long i, short a.”

Brian nods. This is how he’s taught it to himself: long is when you say the letter’s name (as in “I” am, as in “A”te), short is when you say the way a kindergartener would (as in “itchy”).

“Br--eye--a--n?”

“Say it faster!” Jae says, sitting up now, giddy.

“Brian?”

The joke dawns on Younghyun as Jae jumps off the bed, knows what’s coming next--but Younghyun moves too fast, gets hold of his pillow and hits Jae square in the face, his glasses flying onto the floor with a clatter.

“Oh my god!” Younghyun says as Jae stands in the middle of the room, blinking rapidly at the sudden loss of proper vision.

“DON’T MURDER MEEEE! I’m bliiiiind!” Jae exclaims, flailing his arms.

Younghyun scrambles off of the bed, picks Jae’s glasses up off the floor and wipes them on his shirt before gently putting them back on the bridge of Jae’s nose. His fingertips tingle where they touch the skin of Jae’s temples, his hair.

Everything swims back into focus.

There is a moment of silence as they stand watching each other: Jae sees Younghyun as if for the first time. Have his eyes always looked like that? Younghyun finally confirms the things that he’d been tip-toeing around for the past weeks.

I like you, he wants to say. _As a man._

Just then, the gate bursts open and Yoon Dowoon runs past the main house and into the basement unit. The gate slams behind him, the sound of metal ringing filling the entire room. Jae catches a glimpse of him but it’s enough for him to recognize his gray hoodie, the black facemask that covers Dowoon’s mouth. He’d seen that outfit combination before. A protest.

“Oh no,” Jae says. “I have to go. I have a child to scold. Pick up where we left off tomorrow? Oh! And can I borrow your computer? I just have to upload something.”

Younghyun nods. “Yeah sure. See ya.”

Jae grins, makes for the door, opening it with a creak. Just as he’s about to go through the doorway, he looks back at Younghyun, grins fondly. “See ya, Brian.”

 

It wasn’t supposed to go all wrong but in retrospect, Dowoon can’t say that he was surprised. The thing is that the government had allowed the protest so long as nothing violent happened--but in a way, Dowoon knew it was kind of a chess move to declare that. They wanted something violent to happen because it would give them an excuse to halt the rallying by hook or by crook. Everything was peaceful--intense but nothing more then chanting, speeches, candles being lit, signs being held up in protest of the US base expansion.

That is, until all hell suddenly broke loose.

Someone threw a water bomb at a police officer and although everyone suspected that it was someone undercover working for the police, no one had any proof. After that, they started spraying everyone with the water hoses, had started seizing people. An order was given for the rally to be broken up, for all the kids in the front row to be gathered up and sent to the precinct, their parents and guardians to be phoned. Everyone aged eighteen and up would be arrested, to serve at least six months in prison.

Dowoon’s motto was “go hard or go home” when it came to these things. If you were going, you may as well be toward the front to know what was happening, to see all the action close-up

He’d had to run, managed to slip out from under one police officer’s grasp, the hardest thing for him being to not look like he was running. He didn’t know whether or not to take off his face mask--if he took it off, they’d see his face. If he didn’t, they’d suspect him of running away. Last-minute, as a policeman walking past gave him the stink-eye, he’d decided to take it off, put it in his pocket.

None of the security camera footage would have shown his face at least.

He is about to turn left onto the main road when he barrels right into a police officer’s chest.

“Come with me, young man.” The policeman puts an authoritative hand on Dowoon’s shoulder, steering him back toward the square.

“But my house is--”

“--your sleeve is wet,” the policeman says point-blank. “Were you the one who threw that water bomb?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about--”

“--like hell you don’t--”

“--excuse, me, Officer,” a deep husky voice interjects. “I’d appreciate it if you would unhand my little brother. We were supposed to meet ten minutes ago and I was very worried, given all of the trouble that’s going on in this area. I thought the police were staying on top of that situation?”

Dowoon’s head whips around, eyes wide at the sight of Park Sungjin standing to his left, backpack slung over one shoulder, his school blazer still on, his class president pin gleaming in the light of the nearby streetlamp. Dowoon can almost see the gears turning in the officer’s head: how much trouble he’d get in for mistakenly bringing an innocent kid to the precinct, moreso a class president’s kid brother.

“I’m sorry,” the policeman says, releasing Dowoon. “I just assumed--”

“--well, maybe next time before you assume things that could have grave consequences you would stop to think a little bit harder, yes?”

The policeman nods. “I’m sorry. You kids take care.”

As soon as he is out of earshot, Dowoon turns to Sungjin. “Don’t tell your mother--”

“--you know what would be nice, Dowoon? A thank you. Or a Sungjin, I’m sorry I left you on the platform and lied about going to a protest--”

“I didn’t lie!” Dowoon says, exasperated. “Not to you, anyway.”  
The walk to the station is quiet, tense, Sungjin refusing to let go of Dowoon’s sleeve. They make it onto the platform and then the train in total silence. No more seats, they stand side-by-side, holding onto the blue plastic handles dangling from metal railing.

Sungjin watches Dowoon’s reflection in the train window as the city goes past. It isn’t like he’s spying on Dowoon for the past few months or anything--it’s just that he was scared something bad might happen to him. So whenever Dowoon lied about where he’d go (the kid literally had no friends that worked at any chicken shops), Sungjin conjured a “student council meeting” out of thin air.

Dowoon has never been very good at negotiating with people. It was always a my way or the highway kind of deal with him: it bothered Sungjin not because of how brash he was (he found it kind of funny sometimes, especially when watching people who didn’t know Dowoon very well interact with him for the first time), but because he knew that most people wouldn’t give Dowoon enough time to let his funny, light-hearted, selfless side shine through. Sungjin hurt a little thinking about it. They’d never know that Dowoon was the kind of guy who stood up for people when they were being bullied, that he was the kind of guy who would put aside all the pickled radish at restaurants for you if he knew you liked them, that he was the kind of guy who would comfort you when your dad passed away and just hold you as you cried yourself stupid in the boys’ bathroom when you were supposed to be leading the football skirmish--the kind of guy who would stroke your hair and whisper sweet things in his deep voice until you calmed down. But that was another story. They didn’t talk about that much. Or like, ever.

“I was just looking out for you,” Sungjin finally said quietly. “I know you want to make a difference but you still have to be careful. You can’t make a difference if you’re at a precinct or thrown in jail or worse.”

Dowoon looks up at him. “Are you gonna tell your mom?”

Sungjin frowns. “You know I tell her everything. I needed a legit excuse to come home late too. So. I told the truth.”

Dowoon sighs. “I know--I mean, it makes sense. Like, I knew you would”

“Are you mad?”

Dowoon shoots him a sideward glance but moves a hand to clap Sungjin on the back. “Thank you, Sungjin-hyung.”

Sungjin smiles to himself, hopes against hope Dowoon doesn’t move his hand for the rest of the ride.

 

As soon as the door the basement unit slides shut, the yelling starts.

“Yoon Dowoon! I seriously have no idea what I’m going to do with you anymore,” Mrs. Park says, her voice ringing through the entire basement unit, loud and shrill. “What were you thinking?”

Dowoon opens his mouth to speak but his uncle cuts him off.

“Do you know who they killed at the Gwangju Massacre?”

_Here we go._

“That’s right, the kids. THE KIDS, Dowoon. I know you want to make a difference but will yelling at a building filled with corrupt people who don’t care really do it? Is it worth sacrificing your future for? Your career for? Your life for?”

“And why are you wearing my hoodie!” Jae cuts in as he comes through the low doorway.

Dowoon sighs. “Well about the Gwangju massacre--if we can’t protest in front of our current government without them trying to kill us, the we really haven’t moved on from those days, have we? And you can’t make a very big difference to the system if you yourself are in the system, being fed from it, earning money from it. I know that’s where we’re all headed anyway but for now, I have the opportunity of being able to protest with not a lot at stake--”

“--not a LOT at stake!” Mr. Park’s voice booms, loud and clear. “Do you know how many people would kill to have your slot in highschool? Do you know how much everyone here has given up to keep this family together and alive? I don’t know about you, Yoon Dowoon, but to me, family is a lot--”

“--and what about Sungjin?” Mrs. Park chimes in.

“Sungjin?” Jae asks from the doorway, confused. “Sungjin went to a rally? That is the most out-of-character--”

“--Sungjin went to the rally to help Dowoon escape from the police,” Mr. Park says. “Keep up, Jae. I raised you better than that.”

“Ah. Okay. That sounds more like him. Got it, Appa.” Jae says, flashing his dad a thumbs-up.

Mrs. Park turns to Jae. “And you, Park Jaehyung! Why weren’t you looking after him? Your baby cousin doesn’t come home with you and you don’t even bother to ask--”

“--he said he was helping a friend at the chicken shop!!! Younghyun and I saw him go in!”

“Have you ever seen your cousin cook chicken? In any way, shape, or form?”

“I--Eommaaa, we’re cousins, not siamese twins! And I had the thing at the Kangs’!” Jae turns to Dowoon. “And are you crazy wearing my hoodie to the rally? What if they followed you here and they saw you and then I go out and wear that and they think I’m you and they try to arrest me and my entire future as a lobbyist for the United Nations--”

“--you don’t have the grades to--”

“--that’s it! You’re both grounded!” Mr. Park says, walking out of the room and into the small kitchen.

“What!” Dowoon and Jae exclaim in unison.

“But I didn’t get caught by the police I was standing up for my rights is all--”

“--but I didn’t even do anything! I was at the Kangs’ the whole time!!! He took my sweater! I just came home and all this was happening I--”

“--from now until god blesses me with patience, it’s school and home. Well, and the Kangs for Jaehyung.”

“What is at the Kangs’ anyway?” Dowoon asks, annoyed.

“None of your beeswax, Dowoonie.”

“Are you guys dating?”

“What the fuck!”

“JAEHYUNG, LANGUAGE!”

“I’m sorry, Eomma.” Jae glares at Dowoon. “Please also forgive me for murdering your nephew in his sleep.”

Dowoon rolls his eyes. “Imo, how did such a kind lady as yourself spawn Satan himself--”

“--let’s play the silence game. If either of you say anything in the next thirty minutes, you don’t get any dinner.” Mrs. Park turns back to dip the wooden spoon back into the beef stew, stirring the vegetables into the mix slowly.

It smells heavenly, the scent of spices and butter and mushrooms filling the room.

Dowoon and Jae sigh. Neither of them say a word.

 

“Woah.” Jae says, almost barreling into Younghyun as he steps out of the compound’s gate, his blazer uniform speckled with raindrops. He’s late and it’s raining, the day overcast. “God, BriBri, what the hell are you still doing here? You’re going to be late.”

“What the hell are you still doing here?” _That’s the dumbest comeback I have ever heard._ “You’re going to be late.”

 _Oh wow. Kang Younghyun, master of words, everyone._ Younghyun sighs inwardly, still annoyed at himself for being unable to curb the urge to see if Jae’s alright. He’d heard the argument resonating (nay, booming) from the basement unit the night before.

Jae shrugs. “Um, I woke up late? I heard you leave like, five minutes ago.”

“What the hell are you doing spying on me,” Younghyun says, slowly moving his umbrella to accommodate both of them. He tugs at the sleeve of Jae’s blazer. “You’re going to get wet.”

“Um I live in your basement? I can hear you bumping around in your room?”

“So I literally heard that you’re grounded.” Younghyun says as they turn right on the main road, heading to the bus stop.

“Yeah. Dowoonie left early today. He’s probably still annoyed at me. But it’ll pass. It’s happened before.”

“Does that mean no talent show?”

“HAH. Over my dead body. Anyway, I thought you heard. You’re my get-out-free pass. I can do anything as long as it’s in the name of teaching on Kang Younghyun. They don’t have to know that we’re rehearsing.”

“Pillie said that he told Mr. Kim we were going to practice at the shop, by the way. We can probably get on that once we’re done with adverbs.”

“What’s an adverb?” Younghyun folds up the umbrella as they scooch under the small bus stop’s overhang.

“You will see later today, Mr. Brian Kang.”

“When will you stop with the Bri--”

“--never,” Jae says, grinning.

Younghyun hopes it’s true.

The bus pulls into the stop and they climb on, already five minutes late for school.

 

Wonpil is giddy as the seatbelt signs turn off. This is, if he’s being honest, his favorite part of flying to tournaments abroad. The tournaments themselves could be pretty tiring, really stressful--full of older players sizing him up or younger geniuses trying to get him to lose concentration by goading him on with drinks, the prospect of going out to clubs. The anxiety gets to him sometimes: he refuses to leave the room, doesn’t have a lot of people to talk to other than his manager. Most nights, he just sits in his room and stares up at the ceiling or listens to music. If the hotel happens to have a piano in the ballroom, sometimes he’ll go at it for fun or to calm down.

The plane rides are the strangely the opposite: he feels free, untethered, excited to face what’s to come. There’s something hopeful about them, something anticipatory. He likes the routine of waiting for the green lights to go up, unbuckling his seatbelt, and reading whatever stupid comic Jae had given him.

They were in English but Jae usually liked to slip in a sheet of paper with a corresponding translation or his own rendition (Wonpil can’t tell) which makes Wonpil laugh.

The pilot announces that they are comfortably cruising at 40,000 feet. Wonpil grins, pulls the comics out from his backpack. He flips through the pages first, frowns--no translations this time. Maybe he didn’t have time.

He turns to the first page, a huge smile spreading across his face.

There, in the sloppiest hangul ever (some syllables misspelled):

Pillie, goodluck! I know that you’re going to kick ass because you’re the best Baduk player in the world even if I will never understand how to play Baduk. One of these days, I’ll show you how to play Dungeons & Dragons when I have enough money to afford a set. Sorry I didn’t have time to make a translation sheet. <3 Anyway, this comic is funny because it’s about an annoying red-headed jock who can’t make up his mind between the sweet blonde girl and the sassy, dark-haired girl. It’s mostly stupid but it’s really entertaining. Who do you like best? Would you pick Betty or Veronica? Personally, I love Jughead. He’s just kinda chill and loves burgers and can’t live for the drama. In the end (SPOILERS but it’s okay because you and your Baduk brain probably don’t have time to read the whole sage anyway), Archie and Veronica, and Jughead and Betty end up together but I always thought that it’d be cool if Betty and Veronica ended up together and Archie and Jughead ended up together just because they all had better chemistry. I mean--right? You tell me. Anyway. I digress. I hope this’ll take your mind off of the stress. Also whatever Brian’s gift is, I hope that you’re using it wisely. (Brian is Younghyun remember?)When you get back, let’s gang up on him and just call him that so he’ll get mega annoyed, okay? Take care and have a safe flight, win that tournament, and come back home and TREAT US TO CHICKEN AND BEER WITH YOUR 80M WON (also tteokbokki, if course, that’s a staple).

Wonpil grins, turning the page and looking at the pictures. Kids at school, bickering. He can tell who the jocks are from their cartoon letterman jackets. The nerds wear glasses, the expressions on their faces plain as day. He feels a small pang of regret, thinking about the talent show Jae and Younghyun are participating in. Sometimes, he wonders about what would’ve happened if he’d stayed in school, if he’d gone through the “normal” academic track.

Would he be playing along with his friends? Would it be easier for him to ask Jae the thing he’d been wanting to ask for the past four years?

 _Park Jaehyung, will you go out with me?_ He practices to himself in English. _Will you go to the movies with me? I will pay for your popcorn and you can have the arm rest._

 

Younghyun promises he’s only going to read it once but all the English words that he’d learned had somehow just goaded him on more, being able to understand only part of it like torture. By the time the clock strikes nine, he’s memorized almost all of it.

After they’d finished the lesson on adverbs (all of the examples were about Jae, of course, courtesy of Jae himself: Jaehyung sings well, Jaehyung smiles nicely, Jaehyung walks gracefully--Younghyun agrees but Jae doesn’t need to know that), Jae had stayed the extra hour to work on his online stuff while Younghyun played some acoustic guitar and they sang together for kicks (kind of practice too--hitting two birds with one stone). After he’d finished, Mr. Park had come home, a reluctant Dowoon in tow, and five minutes later, Mrs. Park had come yelling for Jae to come home for dinner.

Jae had left in such a hurry, was so frazzled, so afraid of being grounded for even longer, that he’d left his browser history uncleared, just yelling a hurried _SEE YA BRIBRI_ at Younghyun before running outside and down to the basement unit. Younghyun hadn’t meant to read it (more than once) but he couldn’t unsee what bits he’d seen (his name--well, kinda, for one), and is now more motivated than ever to learn how to understand, speak, read, and write in English.

http://yellowpostitman.livejournal.com

**On surprises.**

Okay, homies. So it’s been a while. I don’t have internet or a computer and just rely on the kindness of strangers (just kidding, friends) to post on this thing. There probably aren’t a lot of you out there but there are at least 50 hits and hey, I don’t even know 50 people in real life so. I figured it’d be worth it.

My last post was about first love and how I recently turned eighteen but still haven’t experienced it, at least not the way that most people experience it, not the way I want to experience it. I was talking about how it’s hard being a queer kid anywhere but especially in S Kr. Like, I don’t know how to talk about it with anyone and I don’t really know anyone else who’s like me.

Anyway. I was talking about my age-old crush on my friend WP. He lives across the street, is really good at ba*** (like, he plays professionally) and how I used to think that I was in love with him. When we were fourteen, I almost kissed him on his birthday party because he had this dollop of pink icing on his lip. I stopped myself because obviously, one does not just KISS ONE’S FRIEND IN PUBLIC ON THEIR BIRTHDAY. I always thought he’d kind of be my first love but I realized that it’s very hard to try and see if someone is: 1. queer in any way, shape or form, 2. into you, 3. willing to be into you publicly and not just to themselves if they are always out of the country and don’t even go to your school and you hardly ever see them except to eat food that they buy you with their tournament money.

Also, I think that my other friend (who we’ll get to later) who we’ll assign codename: Brian to, just deadass gave him a box of condoms as a going away gift. I mean, don’t get me wrong: nothing bad about that, protection and all of that right? But he’s probably way too experienced for me. I haven’t even kissed anyone! (Read: it was a rectangular box, not very heavy, wrapped in brown paper, double-taped so hard it kind of looked like an eggplant when he gave it to him--what else could it be?)

I still get that weird feeling in my gut when I see him but it isn’t as bad as when we were fourteen.

So SPEAKING OF: let’s talk about Brian right. LOL it feels so weird typing this ‘cause I’m literally in his room, using his computer and he’s playing guitar and we’re singing. But yeah. Weird right. I always thought Brian was cute but dead inside or like, straight as a ruler (with the same emotional capacities). But recently, I D E K??

The other day, he was outside waiting for me with an UMBRELLA?? And he was late for class with me?? He is top of the class so that never happens and because it was him, the ss-nim didn’t even scold me because no one messes with Top 1. And there was this weird AF moment where I lost my glasses and he put them on me and I felt like dying. He has nice eyes.

Ugh someone just punch me.

And also, he’s the one who gifted the WP the condoms in question so that means that 1. he had guts to go and buy them at the store 2. he probably knows what’s good 3. he probably even has more experience than WP.

Oh my god. What if they’re--nah. They wouldn’t. They had a bro-bro moment about it and it wouldn’t make sense for him to give him condoms to do someone else, would it? Anyway, doesn’t matter. None of your business, yellowpostitman, yo nosey fiend!

Anyway, he’s moving to Canada.

So not like it matters.

I would make this post something like “I wonder who likes me” or “which one will I end up with” but let’s be honest, I think I am just projecting my desires for first love and romance onto them. I wish my mom hadn’t exposed me to so much pop music so early on in life.

I wish I hadn’t watched Amelie too many times to count on pirated DVD that fucked up our player.

I should stop falling for all my emotionally unavailable friends. It feels really weird. We were hanging in WP’s room last week and I was looking at him and Brian and was just like: you’re both incredible. And. Gorgeous. And I am just a sad queerling no one will ever want to love.

Just kidding.

I know emo’s in but [IS THIS MOREEE THAN U BARGAINED FOR YET I’VE BEEN DYING TO TELL YOU ANYTHING U WANNA HEAR CAUSE THAT’S JUST WHO I AM THIS WEEK] really, there’s not a lot of drama here. It’s all in my head. I like to over-romanticize sometimes.

Them: Hey, yellowpostitman  
Me: WHERE IS UR BOY TONIGHT I KNOW HE IS A GENTLEMAN MAYBE HE WON’T FIND OUT WHAT I KNOWWWW

Maybe I will meet someone in college.

Here’s to life’s surprises. Keep it real, homies. Peace.

 

Younghyun frowns. What does it mean to be straight? What is AF and IDEK? Lately IDEK. Lately is a time word, Younghyun knows. Was Jae upset about them being late? (Hah, not like he hadn’t been before). Was AF a good thing? And what the hell was that bit with the condoms?

What?

Also, **was** is a past-word. Brian **was** cute? So not anymore?

Younghyun checks the clock. Twelve to midnight.

He goes through his sentence structure notes and reads the blog entry again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The way your voice called out to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! :D Thank you guys for being so supportive of this AU. Things are about to get a little racier in the coming chapters so hold on tight. 
> 
> I’d like to share this awesome bit of [fan art](https://twitter.com/daehwisdays/status/921695467334983680) by Sophie or daehwisdays who is writing this amazing [ jaehyungparkian Buzzfeed AU](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12344514/chapters/28075854%22) which I love, love, love to death. I really appreciate these types of things. :) They brighten up **my day**! (Pun intended.)

The best man opens the door a crack before stepping into the hotel suite. "There he is--the man of the hour."

“Aha!" The groom turns around, just about to slip a cigarette between his lips--he’s wearing his crisp, white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, blazer and vest still off, laid out on the bed along with his tie, his corsage, his cuff links. The photographers had told him to be ready for the photo shoot with the best man in ten minutes. He grins at the sight of his old friend, puts his lighter and pack of cigarettes into his pockets before walking over to greet him. “Well, finally. I thought I was going to have to walk myself down the aisle.”

The best man leans in for a hug. He smiles. The groom looks radiant, happy.

“Sorry, traffic in the air,” He jokes. “I’m sure that Sungjin would be more than happy to step in for me if I’d missed it. He and Dowoon could pretend they were getting married again.”

The groom rolls his eyes as they pull away. “Sungjin would die of anxiety--you know how meticulous he gets. He’d bust a nerve thinking about whether or not the flowers were arranged, whether or not the music was being cued, whether or not the timing would be perfect. There’s a reason why we named him Wedding Planner and why I asked you to be my best man.”

“Oh you mean because Dowoon is Jae’s cousin and we don’t have a lot of friends?”

The groom laughs. “Yeah, that sounds more realistic. We’re all losers--you’re my best loser.”

He opens the case of cigarettes, offers the best man one. The best man grins, takes one. They step out onto the terrace, watch Seoul, their city, as it shimmers golden in the afternoon sun. The groom lights his best friend’s cigarette and then his own.

The best man watches the cityscape, watches the way that the birds fly up and over the buildings, the way that the mountains are framed by clouds in the distance. He takes a drag, lets smoke escape through his slightly parted lips. He thinks of Jae, of him laughing, the backdrop of city lights behind him, hair blowing lightly in the breeze. He thinks of lost love, of the bittersweetness of it all, of how glad he is that his best friends have found love--even if, for Jae, it wasn’t with him, in the end. Even if it had hurt, it was worth it to see two people he cares about be so happy.

“I know this is cheesy to say--but you take care of him, alright?”

The groom smiles. “This is even cheesier to say but--of course. With every fiber of my being.”  


 

“You keep playing the wrong chord,” Younghyun says, watching Jae from where he’s seated on the cajon in the Kims’ shop. “It’s C and _then_ E minor, up-down-up D7.”

“Right.” Jae frowns, adjusting his hands, practicing the shift from one fret to another. His palms are sweaty. He’s distracted, can’t remember whether or not he cleared the browsing history at Younghyun’s the week before. Not that he’d expected Younghyun to read what he’d written--he was fast but not _that_ fast. He glances at him, catches his eye. “What?”

“Nothing. Just hurry up. The talent show is in two damn days. If we’re going to go and win those tickets, we need to bring our A-game. Channel Jiyong. Pretend we’re performing at an arena.”

“Right. Cause that'll make me infinitely less nervous, right?”

“What’s there to be nervous about? We’re performing in front of a bunch of kids--”

“--easy for you to say! No one ever bullies you or calls you stupid, Mr. Top 1. If I mess up, they’ll skin me alive.”

“Sungjin will save you--”

“--Dowoon has a better chance of saving me. Sungjin has a lot at stake, he can’t get into trouble and if he does, we all know that our parents are going to hear about it.”

Younghyun exhales, impatient. “ _I’ll_ fucking defend your goddamn honor, then. Now can we practice?”

Jae’s stomach does an involuntary flip. He clears his throat, tries not to notice how close they’re sitting, knees brushing against each other.

“Fine. Okay. One more time--one, two, one, two, three.”

Younghyun comes in with the percussion as Jae strums the guitar, taking on Bom’s signature _ohhhhh-ohh_ to kick off GD  & T.O.P.’s Forever With U. Younghyun grins, eyes half-closing as he listens to Jae’s voice crest over the high note, landing smooth as Younghyun takes the first verse.

 _UH, hey, baby girl, what’s up?_  
_Pretty, my love--by any chance, do you know what day it is today?_  
 _Do you know, do you know--_

“--wait, stop.”

Jae sighs. “What is it this time?”

Younghyun looks at him, thoughtful, as if thinking something through, as if making a decision. “What if we change it to _uh, hey, baby_ **_boy_ ** _, what’s up?_ ”

Jae blinks--once, twice, thrice. “Why?”

Younghyun studies Jae’s face. His lips tremble, he looks at his feet, not meeting Younghyun’s eye. _Aha. So that_ **_is_ ** _what straight means._

He’d done some research over the past week and a half, had asked on Yahoo! Answers in his newly acquired English skills:

YoungK asks, “Hello, everyone. I am not a native English speaker--what does ‘straight’ mean for guys? Sample sentence: **_I always thought B was cute but dead inside or like, straight as a ruler._** ”

Top answers:

  1. There are only two genders: gay and gayer.
  2. Straight--that’s when you only like members of the opposite sex. Then there’s bi(sexual) where you like both, pan(sexual) where you just like who you like. And homosexual where you generally like members of the opposite sex. So for guys that would be:  
  
Boy → Girls (straight)  
Boy → Boys & Girls (bi)  
Boy → doesn’t really matter as long as you like their personality (pan)  
  
That’s what our Genders professor said anyway. Hope this was helpful. You write pretty good English actually!  




     3.  Buy car insurance--no straight payment required! 24 mos installment, just input your credit card number in this link: https://ad.fly/fhuyhr

 

“It fits the flow better,” Younghyun says, grinning a little to himself.

Jae finally looks up, meeting his eye. “The flow? Of the song?”

“No, of the person singing it,” Younghyun answers.

Jae blinks, speechless for once. “Oh. But what if they--”

“--they don’t have my idiot English tutor teaching them these nuances. It’ll fly over their heads.” Younghyun grins as Jae continues his blinking extravaganza, swallowing as he tries to fix the guitar. _Cute._ He presses his lips into a straight line. “So. Shall we?”

“Yeah,” Jae says, smiling now. “Yeah okay--one, two, one, two, three.”

  


“Get out of the way!” Dowoon yells as he bursts into the classroom, his portable radio in tow. Everyone scatters, heading back to their seats. He’s scowling. It’s technically Algebra but their teacher had called in sick--Sungjin is technically in charge, which means Dowoon is _actually_ in charge. “I’m listing down people who are noisy and standing--so try to do your thing without making my head hurt.”

He puts the radio down on the teacher’s desk, signals to Sungjin who tacks an unused folder onto the small pane of glass on the door before flashing Dowoon a thumbs-up.

Younghyun is listening to a song on his earphones (his mom had gotten him one of those new, tiny music players--an iPod shuffle), feet up on the table, rocking his chair back-and-forth as he looks out the window. Jae is sitting by the window, reading the last book in Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy. The first book is set to come out as a movie in December and he wants to have everything down before writing a review on his blog--not that anyone would ever read it.

Dowoon fumbles with the antenna, fiddles with the frequency before he finally finds the station he’s looking for. The announcer’s voice is gruff but clear.

_Welcome to the play-by-play of the first round of Baduk Regionals. The winner of this tournament will go up against Taiwan’s representative in the Baduk Regional Semi-Finals to be held in Taipei at the end of November--the match that will determine who goes up to play the years’ Finals and who gets bronze. The room is currently at a standstill as we’re down to the last four possible moves. 5-dan player Kim Wonpil is winning but only by a narrow margin against Japan’s previously undefeated 6-dan player Mizushima Akihiro._

At the sound of the radio, Jae plops his book facedown on his desk to mark where he's stopped reading, hovers by the teachers’ table beside Dowoon.

“Hey, no fair!” One of the burlier jocks, Lee Gamja, yells from the back of the room. “You let the gyopo loser stand!”

“Well, are _you_ friends with Baduk champion, 5-dan player Kim Wonpil?” Younghyun shoots back, rocking his chair upright, the metal making a screeching sound against the floor. “Are you elevating table-top games by keeping alive an east-asian tradition and bringing pride to the nation?”

“Without exploiting anyone for market value?” Dowoon adds.

Jae grins as Younghyun joins them at the front of the room.

Sungjin raises an eyebrow. _It’s not like him to participate._

_We’re down to the last move, everyone--and that’s it! It’s over! Kim Wonpil is going to be representing South Korea in Taipei on November 30th, 2007, as he goes up against Taiwanese champion, 6-dan player Ko Kuan-lin._

“YESSSSS, GO PILLIE!” Jae exclaims, banging on the table. “GET IT, YOU WEIRDO!!! GET IT! GET IT!”

Dowoon picks up chalk, writes on the blackboard.

**NOISY:**

  1. Park Jaehyung



 

“What the--”

“--try to deny it and I’ll kill you. Hyung. You're the noisiest person I know.”

“You only know like, five people.”

_Oh here he comes now--good afternoon, Mr. Kim. Is there anything that you’d like to tell the audience back home?_

“Appa,” Wonpil’s voice says, weary over the radio. “I did it! I heard you’re not feeling well, please take the flu medicine and make the ginger tea that I bought for you and asked Ms. Park to deliver. And to my friends: I will buy tteokbokki. Thank you.”

Jae frowns. “He sounds so tired.”

_And that’s it for our Baduk coverage. In a weather update brought to you by Hite Beer, the first snow of the season is expected to hit us in two days. It’s cliche but you know how the old saying about the first snow goes: if you stand under it with the one you love, they’ll love you back. Here's to hoping for the best for all our listeners._

“That’s a saying?” Jae asks. “I didn’t know that--”

“--speaking of Hite--what about the chicken and beer?” Younghyun interjects, moving closer to the speakers as though the people on the other end can hear him. “He said last time it would be tteokbokki _and_ chicken and beer.”

The broadcast goes to commercial, something about Tiger Balm and being a real sportsman.

“Yah, don’t be greedy,” Sungjin says from the doorway, peeking into the hallway to see if anyone is coming. “If Pillie says tteokbokki, it’ll be tteokbokki.”

“And we’re not technically allowed to drink yet, idiot,” Dowoon hisses.

Younghyun grins, pinches Dowoon’s cheek. “ _You’re_ technically not allowed to drink yet, baby Dowoonie. Lunar age, I’m well past 18.”

Dowoon rolls his eyes. “Grandpa.”

“Infant.”

“Teacher incoming!” Sungjin yells.

Everyone scrambles back to their assigned seats. Sungjin pulls the folder and the tack off of the glass, running back to his desk before slipping it under his text books. Dowoon turns the dial on the portable radio off, pushes the antenna down before draping his face towel for gym over it and stuffing it back into his bag. Younghyun Spiderman-crawls over a couple of tables and chairs, their inhabitants cursing at him as he leaves a footprint on someone’s pad paper. Jae runs back toward the window, trips over the leg of a chair, catches his balance in time but sends his glasses skittering across the floor, right at Younghyun’s feet.

Younghyun picks them up, sets them down gently on his table, recalling that moment in his room--afternoon light, Jae smiling at him, both of them just looking at each other.

The substitute teacher walks into the room.

“Good afternoon, everyone. Sorry I’m late. I was told about Mrs. Oh’s calling in sick last minut--” she turns around to write her name on the board, stops short as she sees what Dowoon’s written there.

Dowoon facepalms before turning to Jae, mouthing _Sorry, hyung_ before he realizes Jae can’t see him anyway because he isn’t wearing his glasses.

“--and what’s this? People have been noisy? Let's settle the conduct demerits, then. Who is Park Jaehyung?”

  


The tteokbokki steams as Wonpil sets it down on the low, formica table in his den. Beside it is a box of freshly delivered fried chicken, a couple of cans of beer, the cool bodies sweating. On TV, they’re playing My Sassy Girl on VCD for background noise. The couple are on the train, disgruntled. The music is funky, carefree, lending to the comedic timing.

“Welcome back, home boy,” Jae says, already reaching for a chicken leg.

Wonpil smiles fondly, pats Jae on the head. “I missed you guys.”

Younghyun tries not to let the pang of jealousy get to him. _Home boy. Is that a couple thing? Damn it, Park Jaehyung. Why do you speak so much fucking slang?_

“Thanks, Pil. We missed you too.”

“So, what was your competition like this time? Were they mean? Age-ist? I should come with you one of these days as your bodyguard,” Dowoon says, popping open a beer. “I’ll never forget that thing you told us last year about that guy from Shanghai who wouldn’t believe that you were 5-dan player Kim Wonpil because you looked so young.”

Wonpil grins. “Nothing like that this time. It was pretty peaceful. And I liked the hotel, they had pink pillows.”

“Good.” Dowoon makes to sip from his beer, holding it up to his lips, hoping no one will notice.

Right as Dowoon’s lips are about to touch the metal rim, Sungjin takes it from him. “Maybe when you turn eighteen, Dowoonie.”

Dowoon lets out an exasperated sigh. “You know that some minors make more sound decisions than older people? Take me and Jae-hyung. He’s technically 18, both lunar and international age, but _he’s_ the one who still reads comics--”

“--they’re _graphic art_ , Dowoon. If you had any maturity at all, then you would know. And come on. Who borrows them after anyway? Who gets them dented and ruins the plastic covers because he's folding them while reading on the train?”

Dowoon frowns, changes tactics. “Jaehyung-hyung, can I have the beer? Please?”

Sungjin wiggles his eyebrows.

Jae grins. “I trust Sungjin.”

“Younghyun-hyung?” Dowoon turns to Younghyun with wide eyes.

“Oh so _now_ it’s hyung???” Younghyun says. “Park Sungjin, do your worst.”

“Wonpil-hy--”

“--don't even try. And I already _bought_ the beer! All you had to do was not get caught. Sungjin will know what to do with you.”

Sungjin grins, his nose crinkling, eyes gleaming mischievously as he takes a long swig from the beer can. “Delicious.”

“One day, I swear to god, I’ll murder y--”

“--excuse me, boys,” Mr. Kim peeks through the doorway.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Kim,” they say in unison.

Wonpil looks up at him. “What is it, Appa?”

“Can I borrow you and Jaehyung for a minute?”

“Me?” Jae asks.

Mr. Kim nods.

Younghyun drops his fried chicken leg on the floor. “Ah fu--dgey bars.”

Dowoon snickers. Sungjin raises an eyebrow again, gaze darting from Younghyun to Jae to Wonpil.

 

 

Jae and Wonpil follow Mr. Kim through the doorway and into the hall. He’s dressed in his bathroom robe and pajamas, a fever pack stuck to his forehead.

“Now, as you know, I haven’t been feeling very well. The doctor said it’s probably because I over-exerted myself when I was handling the piano shipments for the shop. Anyway, Jaehyung, you know that Wonpil’s next tournament is at the end of the month, yes?”

Jae nods. “Yes, Mr. Kim.”

“Well, his manager said that Taiwan’s representatives are mostly English-speakers and they don’t have anyone who speaks both English _and_ Korean and need some help with that. They wanted me to come with him since I can read English and that might at least help with the contracts, but I think I’m getting a bit too old to travel by plane. I don’t want Wonpillie going alone because who knows what shenanigans they’ll try to pull, especially when sports and money and competition are involved. So I was wondering if you would mind travelling with Pillie? Of course, everything will be free and taken care of, we can even help you renew your passport quickly if it needs renewing.”

“Oh,” Jae says. “Well. Sure, Mr. Kim. I--”

He glances at Wonpil who is staring at him, eyes wide. “--you don’t have to, Jae. I know you have school and the tutoring thing--”

Jae smacks Wonpil on the back of the head. “--I would never let you go off to a foreign country alone to be left to the hands of oligarchs.”

Mr. Kim smiles warily at him. “I can see the political-mindedness runs in the family.”

Jae grins. “I hang around Dowoon too much. But yes, okay, Mr. Kim. I’ll be Wonpil’s supervising adult.”

“Hey!” Wonpil says, sticking his finger in Jae’s ear. “I’m an adult. You’re there to _translate_ not _babysit._ ”

Jae swats Wonpil’s hand away, shoves playfully at his chest. “Remember when I caught you struggling to open a pack of yogurt because you didn’t see the _Tear Here_ symbol?”

“It was _one_ time.”

Mr. Kim laughs. “He has a point, Pillie.”

  


“So what was that about?” Younghyun asks as they come back into the den, taking their seats at the table.

“Guess who is finally gonna get to ride a plane again?” Jae asks, only then realizing that all the chicken is gone. He scarfs down a mouthful of tteokbokki.

“No way,” Dowoon says. “No way! I _volunteered_ to be Wonpillie’s bodyguard!”

“They need a _translator,_ not a bloodthirsty goon.”

Dowoon rolls his eyes. “See, the problem with the Americanization of the east--”

“--hey, it’s snowing,” Sungjin says, pointing outside. The snow billows soft, white, swirling against the faint glow of the setting afternoon sun. “You know what they say about the first snow.”

“You don’t actually believe that do you?” Younghyun says, reaching for a beer but letting his gaze linger on Jae. "That's lame."

Sungjin glances at Dowoon. “It could happen. I mean it must be an _age-old_ saying for a reason.”

"I'm dead inside," Dowoon says, grabbing his beer from Sungjin and drinking what's left of it in a hurry.

Jae looks at Wonpil and then at Younghyun. “Well, what if the situation is complicated?”

"What's complicated about that? Either you like someone or you don't," Younghyun says. 

Wonpil frowns. “Wait, sorry--I’m confused. What’s the saying?”

Snow continues to fall outside. On the TV, the two main characters kiss. A love song swells in the background, filling the room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)   
>  [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)   
>  [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything, everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said. From here on in, everything speeds up, we get a bit more risque. So hang on. I would recommend reading chapter-to-chapter and not binge-ing unless you have feelings made of steel. <3 I know a lot of you think you have things figured out but I assure you, I have plans and surprises for this fic that have yet to happen. There will be a lot of drama, a lot of fun times, and yes, that eventual smut tag does come to fruition, don't worry. Enjoy!

The classroom is silent as their advisor passes around the forms.

“It’s nothing to be worried about, don’t look so glum. This isn’t a test--there aren’t any wrong answers. We’re just trying to see how we can best help you achieve your goals.”

 _Yeah right._ Jae sighs heavily, putting aside his tattered copy of Murakami’s Norwegian Wood. He’s been dreading anything at all to do with D-Day, has been putting off looking at colleges, applying for things. He frowns, reads the questions.

  1. How do you see yourself in ten years?
  2. What are your best subjects? (Rank in decreasing order.)
  3. List down your top choices for your undergraduate degree:
  4. Do you plan to apply for a scholarship or financial aid?
  5. Do you have any concerns/anxieties about the upcoming CSAT?



It’s always been his problem: not really knowing what to do, not really being interested in any school-related things. The way he sees it, some people are like Sungjin, who pay close attention to Biology and the other sciences because he knew from an early age that he’d wanted to be a doctor. He’s a sharp-shooter, a precision player.

There are also people like Wonpil--the people who are good at _just one thing_ and were lucky enough to have the opportunity to do it for a living. This is also the category under which Jae puts Big Bang.

Other people are like Dowoon, who just don’t care but are good at everything anyway so it doesn’t matter: whatever he applies himself to, he aces. He’s like a staple food. The potato: goes well with everything.

And then of course, there are people like Younghyun who study things because they _want_ to study things. Business, he’d been telling everyone since before they won the lottery: business is what makes the world go round. If you master that, you master everything. You can re-build any losses, you can make something out of not much, you can change lives.

And Jae?

Sure, there are people like Jae--he just hasn’t met any.

Well, Jae likes to sing so there’s that. He likes to read so there’s that. Also, he writes in his blog so there’s that. None of which are co-curriculum things.

Jae frowns, wondering whether or not to answer the questionnaire sincerely.

  1. N/A
  2. N/A
  3. N/A
  4. Yes
  5. See first three answers.



_Yeah, probably not._

  1. I would like to have a big dog that I can take on walks, preferably a labrador like the one we had when I was a kid but I also like retrievers. Maybe I’ll be living in California and eating Chipotle whenever I want. I’d also probably have met Kwon Jiyong by then. ~~Or married him.~~   Maybe I’ll be married, settle down. And maybe I’ll be known for something: writing or music. Maybe.
  2. Dear Mrs. Oh, we both know the answer so let’s just stop kidding ourselves. (Obviously, it’s Homeroom.)
  3. [Music] [Literature] [Poultry Studies & Agriculture] Who knows maybe I’ll want to be a farmer? Although seriously, I just couldn’t pick one--please don’t let my last choice invalidate any of your statistical data.
  4. Yes
  5. I am anxious about my anxiety and concerned about my concerns.



He sets his pen down, picks up his novel again, hiding it behind the pile of textbooks on his desk, and starts to read where he left off.

 

 Younghyun chews on his bottom lip, taps his pen against the paper, wondering if he should bother answering the questionnaire or if he should tell his teacher about Canada. _Your parents are going to tell them eventually._ He feels fear sinking in his stomach, the realization becoming even clearer: he doesn’t want to go, he doesn’t want to leave his home, his school, his friends behind. He glances at Jae, smiles as he sees him reading his novel in secret. He wonders what Jae wrote. _Probably even more bullcrap than I did._ He feels a pang of longing in his chest. _The days spent sitting with you in my room have been the best I’ve ever had._ Jae looks up, glances back at him, looks away quickly when Younghyun meets his eye.

Younghyun flicks a piece of folded up paper at him with a spare rubber band in his pocket from the morning’s newspaper (he always steals the Sodoku). Jae grins, retaliates by throwing his eraser at Younghyun. It hits him in the forehead.

 _Three point shot!_ Jae mouths at him.

Dowoon turns around to glare at them, mouthing _Stop it._

“Class President Park?” Mrs. Oh says from the teacher’s table, not looking up from the papers that she’s grading.

Sungjin stands. “Yes, Seongsaeng-nim?”

“Please tell Mr. Park and Mr. Kang to stop throwing things at each other and answer their questionnaires unless they feel like being disqualified from the Talent Show on Thursday.”

Sungjin gives them the death glare. “Yes, Mrs. Oh.”

 

“Would it _kill_ you to not get me in trouble for five whole seconds?” Sungjin asks during their lunchbreak, pulling his seat toward where they’re gathered by Dowoon’s desk.

He opens his lunchbox, is unsurprised to see that his mom’s made him chicken curry. Again.

“ _I’m_ not the one who started it with the rubber bands!” Jae says, flipping to the next page in his book as he takes a bite of the cheese sandwich that he’d made himself. The paper napkin clings to where the bread has softened, moistened in the ziploc.

“Well, I’m not the one who kept on looking at me--”

When Jae looks up at Younghyun, his eyes are wide, cheeks pink. “--what? That’s ridiculous. I was _not_ looking at you--”

“--yeah? You just like craning your neck like that for fun?”

“How’d you know I was looking at you, anyway? ‘Cause _you_ were looking at _me_ , you idiot.”

Dowoon grins. “Maybe you two were looking at each other. You ever think of that? Now onto more pressing matters. I want everyone at this table to know that the CSATs are very, very important. Although I’d say the educational system is as fucked up as the government because they encourage the same kind of normative thinking, realistically speaking, all of us are going to have to pass to be able to earn a proper living before we can make a difference to society.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Younghyun asks, ripping into a bag of chips.

“Is that all you’re going to eat?” Sungjin asks, eyeing the cheese-flavored corn puffs.

Younghyun shrugs. “Want some?”

Jae reaches into the bag, takes a handful, stuffs them into his mouth.

“Not _you_.”

“Well,” Dowoon says. “I’m telling everyone because I’m not trying to be mean to Jaehyung-hyung by singling him out and directly saying that I saw his answers when we passed our papers and he is going to get in trouble for those. I am trying not to tell him to his face that I think he’s idiotic and should just apply himself in whatever area of study he can whether it’s English or Math or Sports for all I care because eventually, he is going to have to be able to look out for himself. Then when he’s stable, he can do whatever he wants.”

Jae slams his novel shut, feels anger pulsing in his temples. _It’s not my fucking fault I don’t know what to do with my life yet._ “Well, Yoon Dowoon. I’d say you’re doing a very shitty job of not being mean and singling me out.”

With that, he picks up his book and walks out of the classroom.

Younghyun sighs, tries to stop himself from going after Jae. He’s been reading Jae’s older blog entries, knows that school and expectations and his dreams have been weighing on him a lot as of late. He thinks of Jae sitting alone on the swings or on the basketball court bleachers, thinks of him skipping class and getting even more demerits. His heart lurches in his chest at the thought.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

“Why is he always so sensitive?” Dowoon asks. “I’m just being honest. He acts like there’s no timeline, like there are no consequences, like everything is always going to be the way it is.”

“Did it ever occur to you,” Younghyun says, trying to keep his cool. “That your hyung struggles with the idea of constantly being compared to you? That he has his own dreams and aspirations but just doesn’t have the confidence to act on them? That he struggles with picking out something he wants to do and subsequently failing?”

“Of course he knows that,” Sungjin pipes up, trying to diffuse the tension. “I think Dowoonie was just trying to get him to face the things that he tries to avoid--”

Younghyun gets up. “--by castigating him and breaking his confidence down further? Yeah, sure. That’s one way to do it.”

With that, he picks up his bag of chips and runs out after Jae.

 

“What do you mean they’re _done_?” Jae asks Dowoon in disbelief. He’s sitting on the couch, halfway through a bag of chips and a glass of soda. He reaches for a paper towel, wiping the crumbs from the corners of his mouth, the oil off of his fingertips. “I thought they were going to do the photoshoot--”

“--well, Sungjin just texted me and they’re done, apparently.”

Jae narrows his eyes. “How the hell did they get through that so fast? I was so _awkward_ in mine.  I kept getting tangled in the stupid blazer and the flash made my vision all spotty.”

“You want the real truth or the sugar-coated truth?”

“I love how you pretend like I have a choice.”

“They’re both more handsome than you."

“Excuse me, you are talking to chart-topping Korean-American singing sensation Park Jaehyung, Jaehyung Park, Jae Park, yellowpostitman.”

“You mean Chicken Little.”

“I _mean_ I built my career on music and confidence and was a pioneer of the YouT--”

“--well, that’s _you_ taking videos of yourself. Or like just you doing your thing. Of course it’ll be more flattering. What I _meant_ is you have the kind of face that doesn’t withstand the rigors of like, switching angles and lighting--not to mention hair. Younghyun pulled off that mohawk that one time and Pillie was bald when we were kids. If you lost your floppy hair, literally all your viewers would unsubscribe, no one would buy your albums or go to your concerts.”

Jae tosses the tissue into the garbage can, puts on his blazer. “Okay, I pick the sugar-coated version.”

Dowoon pretends to be deep in thought. _How to be nice to him._ “Hrrrrrrrrm--wellllllll, they both _were_ in love with you at some point in time so you should be flattered about that.”

“Are we _really_ going to talk about this on my wedding day?” Jae asks, giving his hair a last tousle, checking his reflection in the camera of his phone.

Dowoon shrugs. “If not now, when, right? And by the way, I’m offended you never told me what made you decide in the end. Even Sungjin won’t tell me! And I’m offended that you told _him._ I’m your cousin--”

“--who also would’ve judged me a million ways to Sunday until all of my self-esteem was non-existent--”

“--well. Fair enough. Tell me now?” Dowoon grins, apologetic. He glances at his watch. “We’ve got thirty minutes.”

Jae sighs, sits back down. “You remember the Secret Santa debacle?”

Dowoon laughs. “Well, duh.”

“Okay, well it started around then, I guess.”

“But wasn’t that--”

“--yeah, yeah. Do you want to hear the story or not?”

 

“Chips?” The bag rustles as Brian thrusts it in front of Jae.

After running around campus, he’s finally found Jae by the school pool--he’s sitting sideways on the highdive, long legs dangling just short of the water. The board wobbles as Brian sits beside him.

Jae shakes his head, pushing the bag away.

“Suit yourself.” Brian finishes off the chips, tipping the corner of the packet into his mouth before stuffing the wrapper into his back pocket.

Jae stares at the water.

“You okay?” Younghyun asks.

Jae nods. “Yeah.”

Younghyun raises an eyebrow.

_Liar._

“He doesn’t mean it, you know. Dowoon acts tough as nails but I think it’s just because he doesn’t know how to express his genuine concern. I think he carries around this weird complex of not wanting to get too attached to people because it hurt when he lost his mom. He just wants you to do well.”

“I know that. I live with him remember?”

“Hey, _we_  lived with him remember? Back before the whole lottery thing.”

Jae clicks his tongue. “You mean when you weren’t moving to Canada and leaving all of us here?”

“Hey, no fair.” Younghyun frowns, his heart lurching in his chest. “It wasn’t my choice. And anyway, I’ll visit. It’s not like--”

Jae shakes his head. “--you won’t.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“When we moved here from California, that’s what I told all my friends too. I’ll visit, we’ll catch up, we’ll e-mail each other everyday, we’ll never fall out of touch. But it didn’t happen. You run out of things to talk about. You run out of inside jokes, all you ever talk about is the past. And you know the thing about the past? It gets overridden by the future. When you move to Canada, you’ll make new friends. You’ll make new memories. You’ll go to university and everyone will think you’re cool and sure, maybe we’ll all e-mail sometimes, maybe play PC games sometimes but then when we videocall or when we get together there will be this awkward lull and all the information will just bleed together and you won’t know if you already asked us this question or if we already asked you this q--”

“--shut the fuck up,” Younghyun says in English, his diction perfect.

“Jesus Christ,” Jae says, eyes wide, finally looking up to face Younghyun. “I didn’t teach you that!”

“I’ve been practicing,” Younghyun says, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Now that I have your attention--that is never going to happen to us, Park Jaehyung. For the simple reason that I won’t let it.”

“Oh _okay_ well, if you won’t let it--”

Younghyun tilts Jae’s chin up so that Jae’s gaze is level with his own. “--am I not Top 1 in our entire class despite the fact that my family has been on financial aid pretty much my whole life until we won the lottery?”

Jae’s heart is pounding in his chest. He blinks. Brian’s eyes are deep brown, flecked with light from the pool, everything bathed a silver-lined, aquamarine blue.

“You are.” Jae’s voice is barely a whisper.

“Did I not win the goddamn lottery by figuring out the specific algorithm that specific 7/11 branch runs on?”

“You did.”

“Did I not maintain my grade-point average, hence not spending a single cent for my education despite my family coming into money?”

“You did.”

“Didn’t I learn all of your English lessons perfectly?”

“Well,” Jae says, grinning. “You still have trouble with transitive verbs and passive voice.”

Younghyun lets out a small laugh. “Point is--if I say I’m going to do something, I’m going to do something. If I say I’m going to move halfway across the damn world and still keep you in my life, then there’s no way you’re going to get rid of me _that_ easily.”

Jae smiles, nodding slowly. “Fine.”

Younghyun grins, turning back to face the water. _Tell him how you feel._ “Jae--”

“--yeah?”

Younghyun’s heart is in his throat. Jae is blinking at him, head tilted to one side.

“You know what’s a fun way to get rid of the blues?”

“What?”

_Fuck, I can’t do it._

“Go swimming.”

With that, Younghyun shoves Jae into the pool--but Jae’s hands are quick, catch on the hems of Youngyhun’s polo, plunging them both into the deep end. Younghyun takes a gulp of air before everything is a shining, luminescent blue. Jae is floating in front of him, eyes wide, glasses threatening to float right off his nose. Younghyun swims a little closer, reaches a finger out to touch the golden crook, keeps them on. Jae smiles at him, hands finding the collar of Younghyun’s polo shirt

Younghyun lets himself be tugged closer, every movement slowing--it’s like moving through a dream or space, like he is an astronaut about to touch a beautiful constellation. He puts a hand on Jae’s waist, the water lifting the fabric of his white undershirt. The skin is soft. Jae’s eyes study his: a question. Younghyun moves closer, glances down at Jae’s lips--and then there is the muted sound of a whistle letting its shrill cry go and around ten people jump into the pool. Younghyun pulls them to the surface, both of them gasping for air.

“SEONGSAENG-NIM!” He calls out. “Wait!!! We fell into the pool. Don’t send the rest of the divers in!”

“What on earth! Get out of the water--I have a class to teach!” Their gym teacher, Ms. Nam yells, coming around toward them. “Didn’t you two hear the bell? And what were you doing in here anyway? Unauthorized use of the pool is a major offense. You could’ve _drowned._ ”

Jae and Younghyun swim to the steps, climbing out of the pool, their uniforms heavy, sagging around them. The air is chilly. Ms. Nam tosses them a towel each. They drape them over their shoulders.

“We wouldn’t have drowned,” Jae says. “We were your students last year--and if you have a good teacher, that means you learn well--”

“--don’t try to flatter me, Park. I’m writing you and Kang detention slips--which also means you’re banned from performing at the talent show--”

“--what!” Younghyun opens his mouth to say something more but Ms. Nam cuts him off.

“If you value your place as a mathlete, Mr. Kang, you’ll just head to the Discipline Office. I’m _married_ to Mr. Nam remember?”

Younghyun groans but makes for the exit, Jae following close behind.

 

“Idiots,” Dowoon says as they sit in Wonpil’s den the next day. “See, _this_ is what I mean--”

“--Dowoonie, don’t start,” Sungjin says, voice stern. It had taken them _forever_ to get the two cousins to patch things up, most of it consisting of Sungjin easing them into a good mood with some (free) tteokbokki. Younghyun had refused to treat them on account of almost being suspended from the mathletes which basically meant Sungjin’s allowance for the weak is mostly all gone, having paid for enough tteokbokki to feed eight people.

Wonpil laughs, clutching his stomach. “--and because of that Younghyun almost got suspended--”

“--thanks a lot, Pillie,” Jae says, ruffling Wonpil’s hair. “I really feel the support right now. Shame on you to laugh at your bias.”

Wonpil grins. “Sorry. It’s ridiculous. All because of these stupid exams?”

“They’re not stupid,” Younghyun says. “I kind of wish that I was taking them.”

Sungjin’s eyebrows furrow. “What’re you talking about?”

Wonpil nods at him, patting Younghyun encouragingly on the back. “You’re going to have to tell them some time.”

“My family’s moving to Canada.”

“What the fuck,” Dowoon says. “How the hell could you let me ramble on and on when you had something like _that_ to say?”

Younghyun shrugs, glances at Jae. Jae is looking at the floor.

“Well. I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want it to be real.”

Dowoon frowns, turns to Jae. “Is that what you’ve been doing at the Kangs? I always thought you guys were just watching porn. Or like, kissing.”

“What?” Wonpil, Jae and Younghyun ask at the same time.

Jae steals a glance at Younghyun, tries to push the memory of yesterday afternoon out of his mind--the way Younghyun had looked at him, the moment he’d been so sure would follow if the swim class hadn’t interrupted.

Wonpil looks at Jae, panicked. _I’m too late._ He glances at Younghyun before looking back at Jae, trying to gauge their reactions. _Please. Please no._

Younghyun laughs a little too loud. “Where’d you get _that_ idea?”

Jae’s heart sinks. _Wrong again, Park._

Sungjin looks at all of them slowly, suspicions starting to dawn on him. _Is something going on here?_ He looks at Dowoon. _Could he be--like me?_

Dowoon shrugs. “Whatever. I’ve watched a lot of coming of age movies.”

Wonpil lets out a small sigh of relief.

Jae plays with the carpet, pulling cloth from the pattern, undoing the frayed ends of thread.

“Yeah--we’ve been learning English,” Younghyun says in English. “I think I’m doing pretty right, teach?”

Jae rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You’re Top 1, you’re the smartass. Anyway. Didn’t we come here to do some Secret Santa before Pillie and I leave tomorrow? Let’s get down to business!”

“Right.” Sungjin pulls out the small, pink cardboard box that they’d been using for the past five years to draw lots. It was their thing--since they usually couldn’t afford to buy gifts for everyone, they made sure everyone got something. “Eldest to youngest.”

He hands the box to Jae who picks a small bit of paper out from the box before passing it back to Sungjin who follows suit and hands it to Younghyun who takes whatever random square is on top and hands it to Wonpil who does a little dance before drawing his lot and giving the box to Dowoon. They all take a moment, read the names on the small slips of paper.

Jae bites back a smile. _Well, fancy that. Now what the hell do I get him?_

Wonpil grins, extremely excited--until it dawns on him he has no idea what would make a good gift.

Sungjin glances at Dowoon. _If only I could buy him the ability to not offend people._

Younghyun relaxes, looks at the shelf where all of Wonpil’s rubix cubes are sitting, the colors faded from use. _Easy._

Dowoon starts laughing, stuffing his paper in his pocket. Last week, one of the girls who had a crush on him had given him the strangest pink sweater that he couldn’t throw away because he felt bad _and_ because it was so bad it was so good, so wrong it was right and he knew exactly who would wear that sweater with zero irony.

“YOUNGHYUN! Dinner time!” Mrs. Kang’s voice calls down the street.

“Aaaaand playtime is over.” Younghyun gets up, heads toward the door. “Bye, Pillie goodluck tomorrow.”

“Goodluck, Pil,” Dowoon says, still imagining the sweater.

“You can do it!” Sungjin pats Wonpil on the back.

Wonpil flashes him a thumbs up.

“See you tomorrow, Pillie,” Jae says, getting up last. “Bright and early and off to Taipei cityyyyyyyyyyy!”

Wonpil watches them go, lets his gaze linger on Jae’s lanky frame as he gives him a small wave before disappearing into the hall. Slowly, Wonpil starts to arrange the pieces on the Baduk board, thinking about the next day and the trip to come, about Christmas and what to get Jae. He lets out a sigh, his stomach doing little butterflies at the thought of travelling with Jae, of coming back to him after a long Baduk match. Maybe dinner, maybe drinks, maybe a way to finally say what he means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter sooooonest.
> 
>  
> 
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)  
> [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)  
> [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As soon as I opened my eyes, you told me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut in this chapter. I bumped up the rating because I realized this is the most innocent of all the smut that I’ve written for this fic which probably means the rest of it is going to be a lot more explicit. Thank you and I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

They arrive on the brink of dawn, the sky the kind of violet-blue that’s between the radiance of day and the luminescence of the past night. Jae looks out the window, watches as the city of Taipei glitters beneath them, colorful lights turning on section by section as if to say  _ welcome, nice to see you _ . 

A calm, automated voice comes on over the loudspeaker. 

_ The seatbelt sign is now turned on as we prepare for landing in Taipei, Taiwan. Please make sure that your seats are in the upright position, your trays are stored, and your window shades are pulled all the way up to better appreciate the city skyline. We will begin our descent into Taipei shortly.   
_

“We’re here,” Jae whispers, half to himself, half to Wonpil.

Beside him, Wonpil smiles, finishing up their forms for immigration, his glasses on for the flight. He glances at Jae, who has his face half-turned toward the window, lit up by the remnants of the sunset.  _ He’s gorgeous.  _

“What’re we going to do tonight?” Jae asks as the plane shifts, starts to descend. “Street food? Pictures? Drinks? Wait, are we allowed to drink? What’s the drinking age?”

Wonpil laughs. “Tonight, we’re going to have to go to bed early because the tournament starts at seven tomorrow. First, it’s a quick breakfast at the airport and then the contract signing and then the formal dinner with the managers and the Taiwanese Baduk Board members. Then tomorrow is the the tournament--hopefully it’ll all be over by around four or five in the afternoon, maybe earlier depending how good the guy is. Tomorrow night if I’m not too tired, maybe we can go out. If I win, I’ll buy a bottle of wine.” 

“Ooooh,” Jae says. “Wine. Fancy Mr. Baduk-Pil.” 

Wonpil peers at him over his glasses. “Only the best for my favorite translator.”

Jae grins. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

  
  


Younghyun opens the front door to find Sungjin standing outside with a box of tteokbokki. He gives him a once-over. Sungjin’s usual composed demeanor is ruffled by worry--he’s wearing mismatched socks, his pajama pants, a ratty t-shirt under his hoodie. It’s snowing hard. 

“Are you on a quest to spend all your allowance or die of hypothermia--?” 

“We need to talk,” Sungjin says, pushing past Younghyun. “I think I’m losing my mind.”

Younghyun raises an eyebrow. “Come in, then.” 

They get a couple of chopsticks, a pitcher of orange juice from the kitchen before heading into Younghyun’s room, sitting on the floor and sharing the tteokbokki between them. 

“So,” Younghyun says, spooning some tteok into his mouth. “What is this conundrum to which I owe this free food?”

“Well,” Sungjin says, drumming his chopsticks on the cardboard packaging. “I have a secret that I’m going to tell you. But you can’t tell anyone and you have to promise to help me.” 

“Hrrrrm. Well. If it isn’t punishable by death or something I need to go under oath for and if it won’t cost me a lot of money or my dignity, then fine.” 

“I think I have a crush--” Sungjin says.

Younghyun snorts. “--that’s normal--” 

“--on Yoon Dowoon--”

Younghyun nearly chokes on his tteokbokki. “--what the  _ fuck _ ?”

“Yeah,” Sungjin says, staring at the floor. “Yeah, I just figured it out this morning and I’ve been panicking about it. It’s the one thing I can’t tell my mom about. Number one, she doesn’t know I’m gay and number two, she hates Dowoon.”

“She hates Dowoon???”

“Yeah. She thinks he’s abrasive and annoying and puts me in the path of danger with all of his protesting and stuff. That last time really pissed her off with the shenanigans at Gwanghwamun.”

“Well,” Younghyun says slowly. “RIP Park Sungjin, Class President of Ssangmun Boys’ High School, Class of 2007. Either way I see it, you’re fucked: if he doesn’t like you back, he’s never going to talk to you again. And if he does like you back and it turns into a fruitful relationship, then that’s a life of servitude under Yoon Dowoon. You’re going to be following him around from protest to protest for  _ years _ . He’s always going to be telling you what to do--”

“--he’s not  _ that  _ bad,” Sungjin says. 

“Okay. Fine. Tell me what you like about him.” 

“He’s kind in his own way, you know? Sometimes he can be affectionate--you know how when there isn’t a teacher he doesn’t even ask me, he just kind of goes ahead and takes charge?”

“ _ That’s  _ affectionate?”

“When my dad died, he held me in the boys’ bathroom while I was crying. Just kinda stroked my hair and let me air out my grievances. It was the first time I felt I could break down. At home, I always have to be the man of the house, you know? But right then and there I felt safe, protected. I felt like I could be the one to be taken care of for once.” 

“I can’t imagine that,” Younghyun says. “Wait so you’ve liked him for  _ years _ and you’re only panicking about it  _ now _ ?”

“Well I only  _ realized _ it now.” 

“How?”

“I made a list of things to get him for the Secret Santa--”

“--that’s normal--”

“--it’s twelve pages long--”

“--Jesus.” 

“And that leads us to why I gave you free lunch.” 

Younghyun sighs noisily. “There’s no such  _ thing _ as a free lunch, apparently.” 

“I need you to come shopping with me tomorrow and stop me from spending too much money on buying Yoon Dowoon everything that he deserves.” 

Younghyun chews on the last of the tteokbokki, looks at his old friend and wonders if now is the time to tell him about Jae and about how he feels, about the subtle madness that’s driven him the past few weeks. In a way, he can empathize. In a way, he thinks, if he’d gotten Jae for the Secret Santa, he would’ve bought him every novel he could get his hands on too. 

“Fine. But you’re buying me dinner.”  
  


 

Jae trails after Wonpil and his manager, Mr. Lee, as they walk out of the elevator and into the conference room, pouring over pages and pages of the contract, trying to see the different nuances, trying to make out the fine print. It  _ seems  _ fine thus far, but on the fourth page, a rather vague clause has caught his attention: something about income tax and paying fees for the accommodations and the food. As far as Jae knows, the hosting country is supposed to take care of that. He underlines it with pink highlighter that gets on his hands. 

“Alright, this way,” Mr. Lee says, turning right before they reach the lobby. 

“Does everything look okay, Jae?” Wonpil asks. He’d changed into a beige cardigan with maroon lining after dinner, had taken his glasses off in favor of contacts for the signing and the picture-taking. 

“Everything except this one clause. As far as we were informed, hotel accommodations and refreshments are paid for by the hosting body, yes?”

“Yes,” Mr. Lee answers. 

“That’s not what they put in here.” Jae says, handing the papers back. 

“Huh,” Mr. Lee remarks, looking at the bits that Jae’s underlined. “Alright. Thank you, Mr. Park. We’ll discuss it during the meeting.” 

“Should I wait out here?” Jae asks. He’s dressed up himself, wearing a large button down over slacks. 

Wonpil shakes his head. His hair shifts like dark silk. “No way. I need you in there to argue for us. I’m not very good at that.” 

Jae smiles, happy to be of help. “Alright, then.”  
  


 

“This is boring,” Dowoon says, tapping a finger impatiently on the arm rest. “We have less than twenty-five minutes now and we haven’t even gotten to the good stuff. It’s a pretty simple question: what made you choose? What was the deciding factor?”

“When will you learn to appreciate the narrative  _ form _ , Yoon Dowoon? I’m trying to tell a story here.” Jae adjusts his bowtie. “And anyway, we’ll get to that. All of this leads up to that I swear.” 

“Wonpil’s contract signing has to do with that?” 

“Just--listen.” 

“Okay but if Sungjin calls and says it’s time to head down and you’re not yet done, I’ll make you text all of that to me.” 

“You know I suck at texting.” 

“That’s the point, genius.”  
  


 

Jae flops down onto the hotel bed, exhausted. The match has been ongoing since seven that morning. It’s almost lunch time but his appetite is shot, the fatigue making his body crave more for sleep than anything else. He thought that the day before had been rigorous--that was nothing compared to today: the early call time, the hurried breakfast, the making sure Wonpil had everything he needed. All of that on barely two hours of sleep.

One thing Jae hadn’t counted on was Wonpil being extremely anxious and quiet the entire night before the match. Jae’s always pegged him for someone with quiet confidence, someone who knew his game inside-out, who strode into the Baduk room like Leonidas onto the battlefield. But as soon as they’d gotten back from the formal dinner, as soon as they’d stepped through the hotel room doors after all the niceties, Wonpil had kicked off his shoes, taken off his coat, and sat himself down at the Baduk board, pouring over the different moves--more Hector than Achilles, more Merlin than Arthur.   


Jae closes his eyes against the soft pillow. The afternoon light coming in through the window colors everything scarlet behind closed lids. He recalls the events of the night before right before he drifts off into his nap. 

They’d gotten home early, had planned on being in bed by ten but the hours ticked by: ten, eleven, twelve. From his adjoining room where he’d been trying to read a David Mitchell novel to unwind, Jae kept waiting for the shower to run, for the lights to turn off in the next room, but they never did. Instead there was the sound of the electric kettle brewing kettle after kettle of tea, of the Baduk stones hitting wood over and over again, of socked feet shuffling against the carpet, the refrigerator door opening and reopening: finicky sounds like a house nervous in a storm. He’d closed his novel, turned out the lights, pulled the blanket to his chin but couldn’t sleep knowing Wonpil was in the other room having some kind of calm seizure, couldn’t bear the thought of him awake and restless and alone.

Jae gave up sleeping a little past midnight, instead moved into the other room to be Wonpil’s official tea-maker, biscuit-getter, pillow-fluffer as he played an intense game with himself. Although he felt the impulse to tell a joke, to say something snarky, he held his tongue. He’d never seen Wonpil like that: eyebrows furrowing and then smoothing back out as though he was having a conversation Jae couldn’t hear. He played game after game after game: the score unwritten, all of it tallied in his head. 

Somewhere along the way, Jae started to pick up cues: if Wonpil looked around, Jae figured out he was looking for his tea cup which Jae would then fill with more tea; if he looked up at Jae, his back was sore from the pillow sliding too low; if he licked his lips and glanced at the refrigerator, he was hungry so Jae made a show of putting together an assortment of biscuits and cookies--Oreos and oatmeal cookies, gingerbread biscuits and wafer crisps. 

And then the game ended. Wonpil had lost against himself. He sat leaning back against the foot of the bed, his head tipping back onto one of the stray pillows. It was only then that Jae had felt okay to break the silence like some barrier between them had been put down. Here he was again: the Pillie that Jae knew. 

“You okay?” Jae sat next to Wonpil on the floor, their knees touching. Jae’s mismatched socks were bright against the dark green carpet. Wonpil smiled. 

“Sorry. It must’ve been boring to watch that.”

Jae smiled. “What’re you talking about? It was the most riveting thing ever. Like if Professor X was into competitive sports or something.” 

Wonpil laughed. “I’m not bald.”

“Not  _ yet _ . Let’s see again in twenty years.” Jae checked his watch. “It’s really late. You should get some shut eye. You’re the one who said we had to sleep early. It’s almost four!” 

“I always say that because I never sleep well at these things. I know I  _ should _ but it’s hard. I get nervous. I always feel like I’m going to lose.” 

“You’re not gonna fucking lose.” Jae shook his head, slipped an arm around Wonpil’s shoulders in reassurance. Wonpil closed his eyes, leaned against Jae.  _ This feels nice.  _ He smiled, sleep slackening his inhibitions. Jae looked down, watched Wonpil starting to drift to sleep. “We should get you to bed.”

Jae pulled Wonpil to his feet, pulled the duvet off the mattress. Wonpil climbed in slowly, curled on his side to hug a pillow. Jae turned off the lights, leaving the dim lamp on. When Wonpil spoke, his voice was soft with exhaustion.

“Jae?”

“Hrrrm?”

“Could you--I mean, if it isn’t weird could you hold me?”

Jae blinked. “You mean like--in bed?” 

“Yeah? It’s just been so long since anyone’s hugged me,” Wonpil says a little sadly. “It feels nice.” 

Jae felt a deep ache his chest, watching Wonpil’s figure, vulnerable in the big bed. 

“Yeah, okay. I--I could do that.” Slowly, Jae climbed under the covers too, shifting until he had an arm under Wonpil, around his shoulder, the other looped around his waist. Wonpil pressed himself back against Jae, his back flush with Jae’s chest. Jae moved closer, accidentally nuzzling against Wonpil’s nape, the tip of his nose brushing the soft hair. Jae found his heart thundering in his chest, lust licking at him through the haze of his exhaustion.  _ Don’t be ridiculous.  _ “This okay?”

“Mmmm.” Wonpil’s stomach dipped like starlight into a lagoon. “Yeah. Just like that’s good.”

Now, Jae lets slumber carry him into the afternoon through the thrill and fear like a ship sailing safe through the eye of the storm. He falls asleep hoping that when he wakes, the tournament is over and his mind is clear again.  
  


 

Christmas has come early to Myeongdong, the streets lined with bright lights, shop fronts decorated with fake holly and brass bells. A big Christmas tree sits in the middle of the main road. Sungjin and Younghyun get off the bus, warmers in their pockets feeling like day-old tea bags: sapped of warmth and moistening in their fabric cases.

“God, it’s freezing.” 

“How the hell did you survive just wearing a hoodie yesterday?” 

Sungjin shrugs. “People do stupid things when they’re having a crisis.”

They walk down the main avenue, pausing to look into street shops--stuffed toys, books, clothes, beauty products. 

“Speaking of,” Younghyun says as Sungjin stops to examine a pair of earrings Dowoon might like. “Uhhhhh. So. Yeah. When did you know you were gay and why didn’t you ever tell us?”

Sungjin shrugs. “I just always kinda new. And it never came up? I figured you guys new since I was always going on and on about Taeyang’s voice and stuff.”

“Oh. Right. Well, lots of people go on and on about Taeyang.”

Sungjin raises an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”

“Well,” Younghyun starts, suddenly feeling too warm for comfort despite the winter weather. “I think I’m having a crisis.”

“Like a--”

“--a sexual one.”

“Oh. Okay. Go on,” Sungjin says carefully. 

“Well. So I’ve done stuff with girls before--second, third base stuff,” Younghyun says. “And I didn’t hate it. And well, contrary to popular belief, mathletes have some fun too. We played 7 minutes in heaven a couple of times. I’ve made out with some guys too. I didn’t hate it either.”

Sungjin’s eyebrows furrow in thought. “Okay. So what’s the problem?”

“Whenever I’m around this one guy--I want to do all those things with him. And. It gets under my skin. I keep thinking about kissing him. I feel like I wouldn’t just  **not** hate it, you know? I feel like I would really, really enjoy it.” Brian remembers the blue of the water, the way it had felt to be that close, the way Jae’s skin was smooth, soft, the way that their eyes locked underwater. 

“Maybe you’re pan? And more to the point, maybe you just really like the guy.”

“Right. Fuck. I don’t know what to do about it.”

Sungjin shrugs. “Why don’t you just tell him?”

Younghyun grimaces. “How?”

“You could start with asking him out--”

“--our relationship isn’t like that. It’s more like a bull and really fragile china. But like. Super noisy china that never stops talking--”

“--are you in love with  _ Jae _ ?” Sungjin blurts out, his suspicions from the past few months resurfacing.

“Jesus,” Younghyun mutters under his breath. “Tell the whole world why don’t you.”

“Oh my god,” Sungjin says. “And you were judging  _ me _ about Dowoon?”

Younghyun shrugs. “He’s...he makes me feel at ease.”

Sungjin smiles despite himself. “Well in that case, I think you _definitely_ ought to tell him--before you leave, mind you.”

They round the corner, walk into a shop selling different trinkets. 

“What if he doesn’t feel the same?”

Sungjin shrugs. “At least you won’t have any regrets.”

Younghyun thinks about Jae, wonders what he’s doing all the way across the narrow stretch of sea. He thinks about the pool, the proximity. So close. Just a little closer and things would be different. 

“Right. Yeah. You’re right.”  
  


 

Jae wakes up to Wonpil’s voice and the smell of food. Wonpil shoves at him with a throw pillow. Jae opens his eyes, puts his glasses back on. Wonpil’s smiling wide, no trace of yesterday’s fatigue and exhaustion left on his face. Jae glances at the far end of the room where room service is parked, the small table set up for two, a bottle of white wine cooling in an ice bucket. Outside the windows, the sun has set, the sky an inky black. 

“Congrats, 5-dan player, Kim Wonpil,” Jae says, his voice hoarse from sleep. 

Wonpil smiles, nods toward the dining table before walking over to light the small candles. “Dinner’s on me, as promised.” 

Jae gets up, walks toward the table and takes his seat. Wonpil lifts the lid--peking duck and crispy wraps, some fresh spring rolls, frozen strawberries with a chocolate fondue for dessert. Jae’s stomach grumbles.

“Fancy pants. Why do people even run for President? They should just all learn Baduk.” 

“Most of them aren’t stupid enough to stare at stones for hours on end.” Wonpil takes his seat, gestures for Jae to go first.

Jae grins, plucks good few slices of duck and puts them on his plate, picks up a spring roll and bites into it eagerly. “Stop being self-deprecating. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Fine,” Wonpil says. “I’m a genius. I’m rich. I’m an amazing Baduk player, feel my wrath, world.”

“That’s better.” 

Wonpil pours the wine. They toast to Taipei, to friendship, to the tournament. They clean out the meal in what feels like a flash, both of them famished. 

“What do you want to do tonight?” Wonpil asks. 

Jae shrugs. “Just chill out? I wanted to walk around the city but I’m exhausted.”

Wonpil nods. “We could finish the wine and watch cartoons.”

“Aren’t they all going to be in Mandarin?”

“Yeah well you give me English comics all the time and I read them anyway.” 

“Fair enough. So change into pajamas then order more room service and drink wine while watching cartoons?”

“You’re still hungry?” Wonpil asks, surveying the amount of food they’d polished off. 

Jae shrugs. “I can eat if it means taking advantage of people who tried to rip you off by rigging your contract.It’s on them, so let’s order up.” 

Wonpil laughs. “Fine. What do you want?”

“A burger and fries? Also some onion rings. And ice cream for sure.” 

Wonpil grins, picking up the receiver. “Okay, got it.”  
  


 

It’s a Mandarin-dubbed episode of Over The Garden Wall--the last episode where it’s finally revealed how Greg and Wirt ended up lost in the strange world over the wall. Fortunately, this is an episode Jae’s already seen. Unfortunately, Wonpil doesn’t quite get it. 

“What?” Wonpil says, spooning some Vanilla ice cream into his mouth.

Jae is leaning on him, slumped against Wonpil’s shoulder. He stuffs a handful of fries in his mouth, washing it all down with wine from a mug (the room service had cleaned up the fancy glasses along with the dinner tray). “It’s a metaphor, Pil. Like he’s saying one thing but really means another, gets? Wirt and Greg “get lost” because they’re lost in their real lives.” 

On screen, a flashback is taking place: at a party, Wirt fumbles with a mixtape in his pocket, hesitates to give it to Sarah, his love interest. 

“See?” Jae nods toward the screen. “He wants to give Sarah the mixtape but what he means is he likes her. So when they get lost and are in that strange state it’s kind of like how in life, you have to face your fears. There’s no cheat sheet, you just have to navigate through all of the weird, creepy shit and hope you’ll make it out of there alive, a better person.” 

“That’s ridiculous,” Wonpil says. “If you like someone, you don’t have to give them a tape. You just buy them dinner and tell them you like them then you kiss them passionately.” 

Jae snorts. “Wow, Kim Wonpil, the dating expert. Where are all the women breaking down the door to the Baduk room? Just let me know if I’m getting in the way of your hustlah lifestyle, I can go back to my room.” 

Wonpil laughs, flicking Jae’s ear. “First, what’s a hustlah? Second, that’s ridiculous. Why would women break down my door?”

“It’s a metaphor, stupid.” 

“I mean because I’m gay, stupid,” Wonpil shoots back.

“Oh. Right.” Jae says, shifting a little. “Of course. I knew that.” 

“You did?” Wonpil turns to look at him. Jae’s face is bathed in the bluish light from the television. 

Jae sighs. “It’s just a thing people say--”

“--so you didn’t know?”

Jae grins, shoving a pillow at Wonpil. “Yeah, I didn’t know. Well, whatever man. Everyone’s kinda gay.”

“No they’re not,” Wonpil says, laughing. “I asked my dad and he isn’t. At all. He’s never  _ once _ fantasized about kissing another man.”

“Your dad knows?”

Wonpil shrugs. “Who else was I gonna tell?”

“What’d he say?”

“Okay, son. Who’s the lucky guy? Now order us chicken.”

“So you’re seeing someone?” 

“Nah. He just assumed.” 

“Fuck,” Jae says, laughing, unable to imagine a conversation like that with his parents. “I wouldn’t even know how to bring it up. If I told them I wasn’t straight, they’d probably just talk over me and start scolding me about my grades. Or be like  _ why can’t you be more like Dowoonie? _ ” 

They sit in silence for awhile, watching as Wirt finally hands Sarah the mixtape as he wakes up from his comatose state. It’s Wonpil who breaks the silence. 

“--can I ask you a hypothetical question?” 

Jae feels sweat start to bead on the small of his back, suddenly nervous--something in Wonpil’s tone of voice, something in the way that Wonpil’s expression is serious now, that line forming between his brows, his mouth pressed into a straight line.

“What?”

“Would you kiss me?”

Jae swallows, palms sweaty against the sheets. “Hypothetically?”

Wonpil’s gaze meets his. “Mmm.” 

“Well,” Jae says, finding his gaze moving lower--Wonpil’s eyes, the tip of his nose, his wide mouth. He feels that same fire in his gut, that curiosity gnawing at him.  _ What would it feel like?  _

Wonpil studies Jae’s face as he inches closer: milk skin, rosebud lips, brown eyes. “Sorry, I was being like Wirt with the mixtape. I mean would you kiss me? In real life?”

Jae’s heart is thundering in his chest. Their noses brush against one another. 

“Well, yeah, sure. I mean why not right?” Jae says. He can feel Wonpil’s breath on his lips, his cheeks. “People kiss, it’s a thing--” 

Wonpil cups Jae’s cheek, lets his eyes flutter shut, kissing him tentatively at first until Jae starts to kiss him back, kiss him deeper: Wonpil lets his lips part and Jae plunges in--licking into Wonpil’s mouth, his breath hitching as Wonpil sucks on his lower lip. 

Jae finds lust fanning itself into a monster of its own in his gut--he pulls Wonpil closer, hands greedy for the cloth, his skin aching for friction. Wonpil lets out a sound halfway between a whimper and a gasp but pushes deeper too, nipping at Jae’s lips, sucking softly on his tongue. 

For a moment, Jae forgets the absurdity of the situation, forgets how it happened, forgets any consequences, forgets about where they are, who they are, feels only this closeness and longing to be touched, to be held against, to hold, to move, registers only the way that Wonpil’s hand has snaked itself onto his chest, the way that his fingers hover above Jae’s nipples through the thin fabric of his old, ratty shirt and hesitate before softly plucking, softly running his thumbs over the flesh until it puckers, standing stark against Jae’s shirt. 

Jae pulls away, maneuvers Wonpil so he’s lying on top of Jae, hands running through his hair, their limbs entangled. Slowly, Jae pushes a leg between Wonpil’s thighs. They both gasp at the small relief, the friction that feeds hunger even as it satiates it: their hips meet the confirmation of each others’ desire--both of them hard in their pajamas, moving against each other ever-so-slightly. 

Tentatively, Wonpil bucks his hips, holding onto Jae for dear life. Jae grips Wonpil’s pajamas tighter, rubbing their bodies closer together, erections flush against the fabric. The atmosphere in the room pulses, soft moans and gasps the only audible thing. Their shapes cast shadows on the wall.

Wonpil leans in to kiss Jae’s neck as he pushes himself harder onto him, now craving not just friction now but release. Jae loops his arms around Wonpil’s waist, using his palms to press down on the small of Wonpil’s back as they grind against each other. Jae feels the pre-cum smear against his underwear, his pajamas, and he keens, head tipping back against the pillows, throat bare as the glide becomes smooth, pleasure humming under his skin. Wonpil’s hands tug at his hair as he grinds faster, on the cusp of release. He sucks a soft bruise onto his neck as he spills onto himself, onto Jae’s pajama legs. Jae feels the way Wonpil shudders against him, holds him in place as he grinds harder, faster, a final bucking of the hips undoing him as he cums hot and white and fast on both of them. 

Wonpil sighs softly into Jae’s open mouth. Jae’s heart is thundering in his chest, still unable to make sense of what’s happened as the high winds down, everything dawning on him--a strange mixture of pleasure and fear. When he looks at Wonpil he’s watching him with an expression of mingled thoughtfulness and hesitation. 

_ What have we done?  _

“Look, Pil--”

“--it’s okay,” Wonpil says quickly. “I mean, it’s okay. It doesn’t have to be weird. We’re friends. We can still be friends. Just the way we were. It was a one-off thing. It’s okay if you don’t like me that way.” 

Jae blinks, head still spinning, reeling from the suddenness of orgasm, the exhaustion of the day, the strange feelings he can’t quite explain. 

“I don’t know anything right now. I’m just a little bit winded. I need time to think,” Jae says, feeling a lump forming in his throat.  _ Don’t fucking cry. What’s wrong with you?  _

“Okay. Okay, I’m sorry,” Wonpil says, staring at the mess they’ve made of the sheets. “Will you still come with me for the finals in China?”

“Don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Jae smiles. “And of course I will. It doesn’t have to change anything.” 

Wonpil grins, hits Jae with a pillow. “Yeah. It won’t change a thing.” 

Jae smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Wonpil watches as Jae walks into the bathroom. He hears the sound of the shower, the click-click of the shampoo dispenser, knows somehow that Jae will be sleeping in his own room tonight. 

_ It’s just a thing people say, stupid. _  
  


 

“This isn’t exactly  _ not  _ spending too much on a gift,” Sungjin says, frowning as they walk down their street. He’s carrying six paper bags. “I mean. I was supposed to get  _ one  _ thing. One damn thing. And I come away with six things?” 

“You can give him a gift every Christmas for six years now--that’s one way to beat inflation,” Younghyun says. He’d gotten Sungjin a mug with Bob the Builder on it, stuffed it in his backpack so as not to give him away. He’d also gotten Jae a gift--but not from Myeongdong: something else, a secret. He’d paid for it, had it wrapped, but it’s sitting under his bed, Youngyhun still unsure about whether or not to give it to him. 

“Thanks for coming with me today,” Sungjin says as they approach the Kangs’ gate. “I really appreciate it.”

Younghyun nods. “Don’t sweat it. Goodluck by the way--with you know. The thing.”

Sungjin grins. “You too. With the Jaehyung thing. You should tell him.” 

“Tell hyung what?” 

They both jump as Yoon Dowoon sidles up to them, a scarf thrown around his neck, hands in the pockets of his jacket. 

“Um--” Sungjin finds himself mesmerized by Dowoon in the sudden wake of his realization: all he sees are beautiful dark eyes, thick lashes, cheeks like roses in milk. “--he has to--”

“--tell him that I can help him study for the CSATs since he’s helped me with the English thing.” 

“Oh,” Dowoon says. “Okayyyy. Goodluck getting him to concentrate.” 

Dowoon turns his attention to Sungjin. “Why do you have so many gifts?”

“They’re for my mom,” Sungjin says quickly. “She loves things.” 

“Things? Like, in general?” Dowoon laughs. “You’re such a mama’s boy.” 

Sungjin heaves a sigh of relief as Dowoon swings the gate open and slips through. “Christ.” 

Younghyun laughs, drops his voice to a whisper. “ _ That  _ is who you’re in love with?”

Sungjin grins. “Unfortunately.”

 

 

When Jae opens the adjoining door to Wonpil’s room early the next morning, he’s sitting by the Baduk table, staring at the single, white stone like his life depends on it. Jae takes a deep breath. He hadn’t slept well--and when he’d finally fallen asleep, he’d dreamt of water: blue water everywhere, time and movement slow, his arms reaching for a body he couldn’t name. 

Jae looks around: his things are packed, suitcase already by the door next to his shoes. 

“Hey, can we talk?”

Wonpil looks up at him. “Always.”

“I’m sorry about last night. I’m new to these..things. I know you’re more experienced, I know about Younghyun and the condoms--”

“--wait,  _ what _ ?”

“The box wrapped in cardboard. You don’t have to be so coy. I’m a big boy, I can take it.” 

Wonpil bursts out laughing, flicks Jae on the forehead. “Idiot, they’re cigarettes.”

“You  _ smoke _ ?”

“ _ That’s  _ what you’re scandalized about? I’m a Baduk player, not Axl Rose. Did you think I was living it up? Partying? Running a sex ring? Why would Younghyun give me condoms? He’s my bestfriend, not my  _ pimp. _ ”

Jae’s cheeks turn crimson. “Sorry, sorry. I just sort of assume everyone is more experienced than me. Um. Well yeah. I hadn’t done anything like that before. I feel a bit odd. I’m confused, maybe?”

“Did you like it?”

Jae smiles shyly. “I did.” 

“Are you scared that you might not be emotionally ready for it?” 

Jae nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I think that might be it. I’ve never been in love or anything. And I would never do anything to get in the way of our friendship. Well, maybe except dry-hump you, apparently.” 

“Maybe we could try,” Wonpil says, frowning, trying to ignore the stubborn ache in his chest as Jae says the word _friendship_. He struggles to put together the words. _It’s better than nothing._ “Something in between?”

“You mean like--”

“--friends with benefits?”

Jae lets out a small laugh. “You’ve been watching too many American movies, Pillie. Is that what you do with your free time?”

Wonpil relents. “Sometimes.”

“Have you ever done stuff...you know, like, sex-stuff before?”

Wonpil shakes his head. “You?”

“Nope.” 

Wonpil considers this, feels the stubborn bloom of hope flowering in his heart anyway. 

“Maybe on the China trip, we could try. And whatever happens, we stay friends. It’d be a learning experience for both of us. And if you’re not comfortable anymore, you tell me and vice versa. Let’s just see what happens.” 

Jae bites his lip thoughtfully, mulling the options over. He’s a jumble of emotions--fear mingled with excitement, a deep-seated feeling of inexplicable sadness mixed in with nagging curiosity. He looks at Wonpil, thinks back to when they were fourteen, when he’d thought Wonpil might be his first love.  _ What changed since then? Could it still be him, maybe?  _

Only one way to find out. 

“Okay,” Jae says, getting up to wheel his own suitcase into the room. “The China trip, then.”

  
  


Younghyun glances at the clock. Half-past eight and Jae and Wonpil still haven’t arrived. The plane should’ve landed at around seven, they’d said.   _ Don’t they have internet in Taipei?  _ It isn’t like Jae to be extremely sporadic with updating his blog (the last entry had been about being irritated that he’d gotten suspended from the talent show because of his own stupidity) but he hadn’t updated at all over the past few days they’d been away. 

Younghyun refreshes the URL again, this strange fear of his that something might’ve happened to the plane gnawing at him.  _ Fuckin’ paranoid.  _ Sungjin was right: he needs to act on his feelings before it’s too late.  _ It’s driving me crazy.  _

One more time, he thinks to himself. Just one more time and then I’ll go down for breakfast, do my chores, get on with my damn day. He refreshes the page. Nothing. 

Just then, the cordless phone lying on his bed rings. “Hello?” 

“Hey,” Wonpil’s voice comes over through the line. Relief runs through him.  _ They’re safe.  _

“You home?”

“Yup.”

“Good. Congrats, by the way.”

“Thanks. Also, I need to ask you an important question.”

“Yeah?"

Just then, Jae comes bursting in through the gate, leaving it agape behind him as he starts excitedly running toward their house, leaving his suitcases out on in the small front yard. 

Younghyun smiles, a pleasant thrill running through him: that flurry of dark hair, that big smile, that idiotic, awkward way of running.  _ He’s safe.  _

“What does Jae want for Christmas? I got him as my Secret Santa.” 

“Oh,” Younghyun says. “Big Bang tickets for sure.”

“Ah. Right. Why didn’t I think of that. Okay, thank you.”

“No prob, Pillie. Congrats.” 

Younghyun hangs up, grins as he hears their front door of their house open, Jae’s loud voice echoing through their living room as he greets Younghyun’s parents. 

Jae opens his bedroom door. “Hey, loser.” 

Younghyun grins. “Awwww, you didn’t move to Taipei permanently?” 

Jae laughs. “Whatever, you missed me.” 

“You come here for free food or something?”

Jae grins sheepishly. “Can I use your internet?” 

Younghyun grins. “Yeah, sure.” 

Under Younghyun’s bed is a sunburst Fender Stratocaster in a genuine leather hard case, wrapped in pink wrapping paper. 

The card reads, in neat penmanship and perfect English: 

Merry Christmas, loser. I know it’s a bit much but you know, I’m leaving and so I’m a sentimental idiot. Play this well and chase your dreams. Don’t ever let anyone (not even Dowoon) tell you you can’t do it. You can, you will.

Love, 

Brian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm ready. Yell at me. I'm crying too.
> 
>  
> 
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)  
> [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)  
> [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)
> 
>  
> 
> PS Thank you to [Des](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KIASK/pseuds/KIASK) for helping me out with Sungjin and Bri's convo re: Bri's sexual history. <3 ILY forever!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What I’m saying right now doesn’t mean we’re starting again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyyyy guys. So. Are you ready? No? Okay, me either. Let’s go.
> 
> Translation of When You Love Someone is the one from ColorCodedLyrics.com

“What’re you doing here?” Jae asks Sungjin as he walks out from the basement unit and onto the courtyard, pulling his scarf tighter around him. Sungjin is pacing back and forth, his face small and snow-bitten pink under his beanie and scarf, breath fogging as he starts to get winded from walking in circles.

“Nothing."

Jae raises an eyebrow. “You just decided to stand here and walk around the courtyard for no reason?”

“Is your cousin home?”

“Nope, he went to the arcade.”

“Right.”

“Do you wanna have breakfast with me at McDonald’s? I have a bit of money from my Tutor-Kang-Younghyun-even-if-he-is-annoying fund. I’ll treat you,” Jae says. “Consider it an early Christmas gift. It isn’t everyday that Park Jaehyung has money for McDonald’s. But you know--don’t get any of the deluxe meals or anything. I’m not _that_ rich.

“Alright,” Sungjin says, glancing back at the basement unit. “Okay, sure. Breakfast is good. I should probably have some coffee. To clear my mind.”

“Don’t take things so seriously, Class Pres,” Jae says, clapping Sungjin on the back. “At this rate, you’ll be bald before you’re thirty. But if you _do_ end up bald, you can always put on a hard hat like Bob the Builder!”

Sungjin rolls his eyes. “When will that joke die?”

 

 

From his window, Younghyun sees Jae usher Sungjin through the gate. _Huh. I wonder what they’re talking about._ He smiles, watching Jae all bundled up, kind of reminding him of an ostrich with his puffy winter coat and long, slender legs. _But like, a hot ostritch. The cutest ostrich._ With that, he walks to his computer, just now remembering to read whatever it was that Jae had posted the other day.

He lets the wifi connect, clicks on the Firefox browser, and types in the URL (he’s always careful to erase it from his browsing history in case Jae notices when he comes over).

**On regret and emotional confusion.**

Yo, homies. This is about to be a bit depressing.

This is one thing I don’t think Big Bang has a song for. See, the thing is, if you’re a member of Big Bang, chances are you're not a highschooler filled with confusion and maybe regret and maybe doing something really, really, really fucking stupid--all of which is compounded by D-Day fast approaching and this overwhelming feeling of not knowing what the fuck you’re going to do with your life.

The tests are next week.

Fuck.

I feel like I’m going to flunk everything. I feel like no school will take me. My friends can probably teach me a lot of the math stuff (I’m not an idiot) and I know a lot of the basic stuff but like, will I be good enough to specialize in anything? Do I really care? Does it matter? Maybe some people just want to pass. But also, I don’t want to end up studying something I hate.

And then there’s the other thing. I think I might be fucking something big up but this stupid nagging part of me can’t let it go, can’t resist it either. Is this what they mean about curiosity killing the cat? Have I been listening to too much Fall Out Boy. Too much shit about friction in jeans and closets.

Hold up ‘cause it’s going to get even _more_ emo. I’ve also been listening to My Chemical Romance’s _Disenchanted_ on loop. Best lines in bold.

 _Well, I was there on the day  
They sold the cause for the queen,  
**And when the lights all went out** _  
**We watched our lives on the screen.**   
**I hate the ending myself,**  
**But it started with an alright scene.**

 **_It was the roar of the crowd_ **  
**_That gave me heartache to sing._ **  
**_It was a lie when they smiled_ **  
**_And said, "You won't feel a thing."_ **  
_And as we ran from the cops_ **_  
We laughed so hard it would sting_ **

_**If I'm so wrong, so wrong, so wrong.** _   
_How can you listen all night long, night long, night long?_   
_Now will it matter after I'm gone?_   
_Because you never learn a goddamned thing._

**_You're just a sad song with nothin' to say_**  
_About a life-long wait for a hospital stay_  
_Well, if you think that I'm wrong,_  
 _This never meant nothing to ya_

 **_I spent my high school career_ **  
**_Spit on and shoved to agree_ **  
**_So I could watch all my heroes sell a car on TV_ **  
**_Bring out the old guillotine  
We'll show 'em what we all mean_ **

Younghyun sighs, wonders what Jae’s going through, wants so badly to ask him if he’s alright. He opens a YouTube page, plays the song in question side-by-side with the lyrics. He thinks about the talent show, how it would’ve meant so much to Jae to be able to perform, to be able to have that album, a shot at the tickets. _You’re an idiot, Kang Younghyun. Why did you have to shove him in the fucking pool? All because you’re too chicken to tell him how you fucking feel._

Younghyun chews on his lower lip, wonders what he can do to make up for it. Wonpil is getting Jae the tickets, so that was that--well, he could go out and buy the CD later to add to his Christmas gift but the _performance_ bit, that’s the bit that’d be hard to make up for. His gaze falls on the Canon Digital Camera that his dad had gotten him because “all the kids have one these days”.

Hrrrm. _That’s an idea._

He opens another page, hits Naver search.

_How to upload YouTube videos._

He takes a deep breath as the results page comes up, gets ready to take a crash course in YouTubing and its algorithms.

 

“So,” Jae says, drawing criss-cross ketchup patterns on his hash browns. “I figure that it should be special because he’s leaving and also because I have no money to buy him anything expensive so it’s gotta be like, hardcore thoughtful or whatever.”

Sungjin bites back a small smile, sips on his iced coffee. “Mhhhm. So what’re you planning?”

“You ever see Elizabeth Town?”

“The movie with the Legolas guy?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think so but I saw the poster. What about it?”

“Well, in that movie, Kirsten Dunst’s character gives Orlando Bloom this book thing with mixtapes or mixed CDs in it and it’s got letters and things, corresponding with the different places that he goes to on a roadtrip? So like “In Kansas, listen to this while eating…” or whatever. I’m making something like that but I’ve got low funding so it’ll be one mixtape but with a DIY zine thing with letters corresponding with every track. What do you think? Too much?”

Sungjin tilts his head to the side thoughtfully. “No. No, I think that’s perfect, actually.”

“Okay! Yay! Want to help me buy art supplies?” Jae downs the rest of his coffee, suddenly feeling very, very hyped for the day.

“Yeah sure,” Sungjin says. “But I need your help with something.”

“What?”

“Do you know what time Dowoon gets home?”

“Dude, what is it with you and Dowoon? Why don’t you just text him?”

“He doesn’t reply.”

“Oh. Well, he usually hangs out at the arcade until it’s time to come home for dinner. So as long as we get back by 5:30 PM, then it should be fine.”

“Okay. I need you to do me a big favor.”

“What?”

“Can you distract my mother?”

“ _What_?”

“She hates Dowoon but we have to pass my house to get to the park on the other side and I need to talk to him at the park so I need you to head in there and ramble and like, accidentally spill Kimchi on the floor or something. Whatever, she likes you, thinks you’re adorable. So be your weird, awkward self in my house. From five-thirty to six?”

“Why do you have to talk to him at the park? Just come over then let’s eat noodles. Or let’s go to Pillie’s and make him buy us tteok.”

“Because the park has those trees that get really pretty during the winter because the angle makes it look like the snow is growing on the branches.”

Jae snorts. “What’re you gonna ask him on a date or something?”

Sungjin doesn’t answer, just pops a fry into his mouth.

Jae’s eyes widen. “I swear to god. I’m gone for _three_ days.”

 

“Okay, Pillie, just like that,” Brian says, holding the camera up to frame Wonpil playing the piano. “It’s just a test video for an experiment so just play whatever.”

They’re in the Kims’ shop, Wonpil sitting at one of the upright pianos while Brian stands off to the side, testing the framing, the quality of the video, how the audio registers.

Wonpil laughs, poising his hands over the keys. “I’m not good with the camera.”

“Yeah but you’re good at playing the piano, so that’s fine. Just play whatever.”

“Anything?” Wonpil asks, feeling self-conscious again.

Younghyun laughs at his best friend--the way that he shifts in his seat, eyes darting back and forth between the camera and the keys, self-conscious. “Well obviously not like, Mary Had A Little Lamb or anything.”

“Are you gonna make me famous, Younghyun?”

Younghyun laughs. “You’re already famous, 5-dan Baduk Player Kim Wonpil. Maybe 6-dan soon, right? I’m just going to upload it privately to see if it works, if the musical quality is up to par. I read sometimes it can get out of sync. I need around a minute of footage. I don’t have a tripod so I can’t do it myself. Now, hurry up, the battery’s running out. It doesn’t have to be long, just like, the first couple of bars.”

“Okay,” Wonpil says. “I’ll play you one of my originals.”

“You still writing songs, Pillie?”

“Yeah, you think quitting school made me quit being a person?”

Younghyun laughs. “Fair enough. Alright. On my cue okay? One, two, three.”

Younghyun presses the record button. Wonpil turns to the keys, starts to play a light melody--both nostalgic and hopeful, gentle on the ears, but backed with a mix of minor chords that lend something sad to it. It’s comforting but also tugs at the heartstrings.

“Wow,” Younghyun says. “That’s such a good melody.”

Wonpil smiles to himself, starts to sing.

 _It was a really hard day today_  
_My heart aches for you_  
_The only thing I can do for you_  
_Is to be next to you, I’m sorry_

 _You’re so pretty when you smile_  
_So every time you lose that smile_  
_Even if I have to give my all_  
_I want to give it back to you_

“Wow,” Younghyun says again, hitting the record button again as the time signature passes one minute and turning the camera off. “Wowowowow. Okay, Pillie. Can I borrow a guitar? Let’s work on this.”

Wonpil beams at him. “Sure. You can use that  one by the desk, it’s old so we’re not selling it anymore. You really like it?”

“Yeah. Wow. Jesus. That’s gonna be stuck in my head for years.”

Younghyun sets the camera down, takes the guitar and sits next to Wonpil on the long piano bench so they’re side-by-side, facing opposite directions.

“Want me to play it again?”

“Go ahead,” Younghyun says.

Wonpil plays them back into the melody. Younghyun plays it by ear, strums the chords as he hears them: guesses F, Em, F, C. Wonpil’s voice soars into the first verse, gentle but passionate. Younghyun smiles, unable to resist adding small harmonies, tiny _ah-aaaah-ahhhs_ in the background.

Wonpil grins at him, liking how it sounds, plays on. When Wonpil hits the second verse, Younghyun finds a backing melody, sings it softly.

_This is a song for you,  
I’m singing for you . _

They hit the chorus, the melody shifting into something more playful, Wonpil’s eyes shut tight now as he sings passionately.

 _I want to cry for you_  
_I want to hurt instead of you_  
_I don’t want any scars in your heart_  
_Ever again_

 _When you love someone_  
_So much that it overflows_  
_It’s so amazing_  
_Because this is how it is_

When the song ends, they’re both grinning. They high five, Younghyun setting the guitar back down.

“I really missed playing with you, Pillie,” Younghyun says. “Not to be a downer, I know that you love Baduk and that it’s your career and I understand why you left school--but it hasn’t been the same without you, you know? I miss the good old days sometimes.”

Wonpil grins. “Me too. I know it’s your future and all that but I’ll miss you when you move to Canada.”

Younghyun smiles sadly. “I’ll miss you too. How’ve you been these days? We don’t get to talk much aside from, like, eating tteokbokki in your den and watching everyone be idiots.”

Wonpil sighs. “Well. Do you ever feel like you’re selling yourself short or making dumb choices but you don’t really have much of a choice?”

“Hrrrm,” Younghyun muses.“I need more context. I mean you always have a choice. Not choosing is a choice.”

“Okay, well. I--”

Jae bursts in through the door, the chimes ringing, the metal hinges squeaking open. “I need your help! Both of you.”

Younghyun’s heart leaps in his chest. Wonpil tries not to make his excitement obvious, takes his time turning around. _The China trip, less than two weeks._

“With what?” Younghyun asks. “Homework?”

“Ha-ha, very funny. No. Um. Well. Sungjin needs me to distract his mom and I don’t know how to do it.”

“Distract his mom?” Wonpil asks. “What do you mean?”

“From looking outside the window and noticing him hanging out with--nevermind, it’s complicated. So. Brian, get that guitar, Wonpil, get that tiny synth thing. We’re going caroling.”

“In _November?_ ”

 

“So, you see--really, you owe me your marital bliss,” Jae says, wiggling his eyebrows. “Otherwise, Sungjin wouldn’t have even had the _chance_ to ask you out that day. And none of The Chronicles of Sungjin  & Dowoon would have ever come to fruition.”

Dowoon rolls his eyes. “It would’ve happened anyway. That’s what happens when people are meant to be, hyung. They go after each other anyway.”

Jae rolls his eyes.

“Fifteen minutes,” Dowoon reminds him. “Get on with the story.”

“Hold on,” Jae checks his phone, grins as the new message pops up.

 **Hubby-To-Be  
** How are you holding up, baby?

 **Jaehyung Park Hottest Man Alive  
** Doing fine. Me and Dowoon just ate chips. HAHA Didn’t get grease on my suit and I’m proud. A successful grown-up.

 **Hubby-To-Be  
** You two are ridiculous. The reception is right after. There’s food there, you know. Like, we’re going to be feeding people and ourselves? Wedding party? Dinner? That kinda thing.

 **Jaehyung Park Hottest Man Alive  
** I’m being cheesy and telling him the Story of Us.

 **Hubby-To-Be  
** You know that movie’s about a divorce, right?

 **Jaehyung Park Hottest Man Alive  
** Is that fear I detect? Hesitation? A tinge of regret? You nervous? Ready to embark on this NO RAGRETS JOURNEY? Last chance to back out.

 **Hubby-To-Be  
** Been ready for a billion years.

 

Jae grins, is about to send a heart emoticon when another message box pops up.

 

 **Best-Man-If-He-Doesn’t-Miss-The-Wedding-Altogether  
** How’s the blushing bride?

 **Jaehyung Park Hottest Man Alive  
** Glad to see you made it despite your busy schedule.

 **Best-Man-If-He-Doesn’t-Miss-The-Wedding-Altogether  
** No fair.

 **Jaehyung Park Hottest Man Alive  
** Nice of you to pencil us in.

 **Best-Man-If-He-Doesn’t-Miss-The-Wedding-Altogether  
** You think you’re so hilarious, all punny like that.

 **Jaehyung Park Hottest Man Alive  
** How’s he? Nervous? Shaking in his leather shoes? How was your flight?

 **Best-Man-If-He-Doesn’t-Miss-The-Wedding-Altogether  
** Delayed but smooth. He’s fine. Excited. Very excited. Am I allowed to be sentimental or do I save it for the speech?

 **Jaehyung Park Hottest Man Alive  
** Save it. They worked hard to further beautify this piece of art that is my face. If I cry, it’ll be for nothing.

 **Best-Man-If-He-Doesn’t-Miss-The-Wedding-Altogether  
** We both know you’d be gorgeous either way. See you in fifteen. If I never told you, I’m so happy for the two of you.

 **Jaehyung Park Hottest Man Alive  
** Thank you. FUCK YOU I’m tearing up. But thank you. See you guys later.

 

“What are we doing here?” Dowoon asks, squinting up at the tree that holds snow up like its leaves are made of glass. He’s irritable, having been about to load his last House of The Dead game when Sungjin had pulled him out of there, insisting he needed him to go with him to the park on the other end of the street. “You ever wonder about this tree? I swear, it’s like it’s haunted or something.”

“There’s no such thing as a haunted tree,” Sungjin says. “The branches curve and so the snow gets caught in them.”

“Do you think I’m stupid? I said it’s _like_ it’s haunted. I know there isn’t an actual leaf-ghost.”

“It’s pretty,” Sungjin says quickly. “I mean that’s why I picked this place because it’s pretty.”

“Is this another one of those city-wide things that you volunteered for? Are we going to be shoveling snow to help the homeless? Because I’m tired and I would appreciate it if next time, you informed me at least a day before so that I can wear immersion-appropriate shoes and not have my toes fall off--”

“--I like you,” Sungjin blurts out. “Like. As a man. Like, _like_ like.”

Dowoon blinks repeatedly and for a moment, Sungjin sees the family resemblance between him and Jae. “Wait, sorry, _what_?”

“I like you,” Sungjin says, grinning, enjoying seeing Dowoon flustered for once. “I think you’re handsome and smart and kind and I want to go out on a date with you.”

“Are you pranking me?”

Sungjin shakes his head. “I’m serious.”

Dowoon looks around them. The sunlight makes the soft snow sparkle a little, lending the otherwise ordinary playground an ethereal feel. _I guess this is romantic._ “Oh. Well. Um. When?

“I’ll plan it. Are you free next Friday? Week after D-Day?”

Dowoon gives Sungjin a quizzical look. “You sure you’re not joking? I’m warning you, I’m dead inside.”

Sungjin grins. “I’m not joking. And you’re not dead inside and you know it.”

Dowoon frowns. “Is this because I drank Pillie’s beer? Or ‘cause I got Jae-hyung and Younghyun in trouble last week?”

Sungjin sighs, impatient now. “It’s because you’re you.”

Dowoon studies Sungjin’s face as if seeing him for the first time: he’s always thought he was a really awesome guy, but now he takes a moment to consider him in _that_ light. Bright eyes, strong jaw, big smile. Perfect, really. _Why would someone like that like me?_

“You have bad taste.”

Sungjin laughs. “So sue me. Friday, then?”

Dowoon rolls his eyes but can’t help smiling a little to himself. He turns to walk back toward their street.

“Yeah, yeah. Friday. Also, you better think up an excuse. Your mom hates me.”

Sungjin grins, running after him. He hears strains of _Jingle Bell Rock_ coming from his house, guitar and synth, vocals harmonizing as they sing about a Jingle Bell Horse, a Jingle Bell Hop.

 

“I don’t get it,” Jae says, frowning. He’s sitting at the foot of Younghyun’s bed. There’s a guitar out, Younghyun’s camera lying nearby. “So I’m going to sing and you’re going to take a video of me?”

Younghyun groans, pulls Jae off the bed and into the chair by the desk. “Okay. Watch this.”

He clicks a video of a guy sitting in front of the camera, the resolution fuzzy. He’s holding a guitar, starts singing a cover of Damien Rice’s Cannonball.

 _Still a little bit of your taste in my mouth_  
_Still a little bit of you laced with my doubt_  
_Still a little hard to say what's going on_

Younghyun watches as Jae’s eyebrows furrow. Jae hits the spacebar. The video pauses.

“Wait. Okay, so we’re going to do something like this except we aren’t going to upload it, right?”

“We’re going to do something like that and definitely upload it,” Younghyun says. “Look. 20,000 views--and that guy’s pitch is off. What more with someone who sings like you? Plus, HD camera so it won’t be some weird lq-stuff.”

“Um. Okay but like. _That’s_ the problem? No one is going to click a video of someone who looks like me. _That_ guy looks pretty good. He’s got the like, surfer dude vibe going, he’s got the swag, the long hair, the muscles--”

“--oh my god,” Younghyun says, frustrated. “Just fucking trust me, will you? People will watch it. Sure, you’re not as hot as that guy, like in a conventional sense. But you’ve got the bookish, Harry Potter, boyfriend-style thing going for you.”

“I do?” Jae blinks, his cheeks starting to get warm. “It’s really weird when you compliment me.”

Younghyun rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Some people like that kind of aesthetic.”

Jae smiles a little, noticing the small beads of sweat starting to form on the tip of Younghyun’s nose. He glances at the heating meter. _It seems to be working fine._

“So,” Younghyun says. “What’s a song that you know by heart?”

“Uhhhhh well,” Jae says, slowly. “I know Mraz’s You & I Both.”

“Okay, that works,” Younghyun says. “Anyway, this is just a practice run. No pressure.”

Jae takes a deep breath, picks up Younghyun’s acoustic guitar. “Fine. But I’m telling you no one’s going to watch this.”

“Fine,” Younghyun says. “Let’s make a bet. If no one watches it, you buy me a cup of coffee to console my bruised ego. If people watch it, we record two more covers and you make a Twitter account.”

“I don’t even have a phone to tweet from. I still use a 3310.”

“That’s not the point,” Younghyun says. “You can tweet from my desktop. The point is presence.”

Jae sighs. “Fine. Deal. Only because I’m going to win and the coffee will be bought with tutoring money anyway which means you’re technically buying yourself a coffee.”

Younghyun grins. “I love buying myself coffee.”

Jae picks up the guitar, crosses his legs, brushing his dark hair out of his eyes before poising himself to play.

Younghyun picks up the camera, sits in front of Jae, hits record. _I should really get a fucking tripod._ “Okay. Whenever you’re ready. Introduce yourself first, and the song.”

“Hey,” Jae says. “I’m Jae. And this is a cover of Jason Mraz’s _You and I Both._ ”

“I guess you’re Jae-son for these next few minutes,” Younghyun can’t resist joking.

Jae chuckles. “Loser. Right. Okay so. One, two, one, two, three.”

Younghyun tries to keep his eyes on the digital camera screen but can’t help looking up to appreciate the real thing as Jae sings, fingers strumming the guitar. His voice is smooth, silky, his head bobbing to the beat as he starts to head into the main melody. Dark hair over honey-milk skin, a small smile on his lips as he sings.

 _Was it you who spoke the words that_  
_“Things would happen but not to me”?_  
_All things are gonna happen naturally._  
_Oh I’m taking your advice and I’m looking on the bright side_  
_And balancing the whole thing._

Younghyun grins as the chorus hits, swaying a bit himself, making a real effort to keep the camera still. Jae looks adorable in his oversized hoodie, singing confidently despite being unsure, carrying on even if he’s still convinced that no one is going to watch it. The rest of the song goes by in what feels like a flash to Younghyun. He wants more, wants to listen to Jae sing forever.

“Earth to Brian?” Jae waves a hand in front of the camera as the song ends.

“Right. Sorry,” Younghyun stops recording.

“Was it good?”

“Let’s move it to the computer and see.”

“No, I mean, what did _you_ think?” Jae asks, putting down the guitar and walking behind Younghyun, leaning on his back with his forearms, looking over his shoulder at the camera screen. Younghyun nearly drops it at the sudden memory of soft skin, Jae’s face inches from his as they were suspended in water.

“Oh,” Younghyun says, recovering in time to catch the camera. “I really liked it.”

“Hey,” Jae says, smiling.

“What?”

“You let me call you Brian.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave theories about what you think is going to happen and who you think the groom is going to end up being and why on my Curious Cat. :D They’re super fun to read. I will reply to everyone once the reveal is made and will talk about it further in the post-notes when the whole AU is done. 
> 
> Next chapter up in roughly four or five hours? Just putting on some finishing touches. Chapters 8 and 9 are something, let me tell ya.
> 
>  
> 
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)  
> [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)  
> [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You said I’m sorry, thank you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP

The atmosphere in Shanghai is a lot more intense than Taipei. As soon as they land, they’re ushered into a number of press conferences. There are a number of contracts for Jae to review--from the promoters, the Baduk Board, the media outlets handling the coverage, and of course, the rotary who funded the prize money. Wonpil and his manager sit up at the main table, answering questions from reporters. Wonpil is dressed for the occasion in a turtleneck and coat.

Jae is seated at one of the tables by the door, flipping through the third contract. He skims and scans, try to accommodate as much information as possible. He wonders why people who played such a seemingly calm sport are so obsessed with tricking one another into paying for things--the Baduk Board contract was fine but the promoters’ contract is a mess: little contradictions about fees and commissions, how much Wonpil would get, how much the advertisers would get. The contract is peppered with pink highlight marks. _It could pass for a freaking landing strip._ Jae sighs, closes his eyes for an instant to rest.

The sound of camera shutters everywhere makes him nauseous. He hopes Wonpil is able to sleep well tonight, hopes that he won’t be as nervous as he had been in Taipei. They’d taken a red-eye out and hadn’t had any shut-eye since the plane. Jae feels like he can see fine print on the backs of his eyelids.

It feels like a trapdoor--D-Day had come and gone, once the big, momentous thing that Jae was afraid of. And instead of relief, he felt yet another thing just under the surface, one thing giving way to another: like a serpent he can only see from its shadow, a strange guilt coils itself in his gut, the odd feeling in the pit of his stomach when he starts to think about the nights to come. How could he feel guilty for something if nothing had been said? _You don’t know if he has feelings for you, why do you feel bad? You don’t_ **_not_ ** _like him, why do you feel guilty? And he started it. Everyone is entitled to a little experimentation._ With that, he opens his eyes, picks his pen back up and goes through the rest of the contract.

 

“No, I refuse to let you pay for me,” Dowoon says, stuffing his money into the strawberry vendor’s hand. She looks alarmed, handing him his stick of strawberries dipped in chocolate as though he’s a robber at a bank who’s just asked him to hand her the loot. He turns to Sungjin who is holding his own stick and 5,000 won, mouth still agape. “What? Did you think just because I agreed to go on this date with you, we were going to adhere to ‘normal’ heteronormative stereotypes? You’re the older man with more money and a part-time job and I’m the kid who you pay for? No, sirree. We are not doing that.”

Sungjin shakes his head fondly. “You’re ridiculous. You know I had a whole dinner thing planned right. Why’d you want to come to Deoksugung Palace? This place is for tourists.”

“Because,” Dowoon says, biting into the first strawberry as they walk through the palace gates. “I need you to know what you’re getting yourself into. I know I look cute and handsome and that it can be deceptive--”

“--Dowoon, I’ve known you for almost ten years--”

“--IT CAN BE DECEPTIVE how I am everyone’s dongsaeng technically,  but I am a very fastidious person.”

“I already know that.”

“Well, I assume that you’re going to date for love, yes?”

“What?”

“Oh,” Dowoon says. “Are you just fucking around? I didn’t know I seemed like the type who would get into a short-term thing for fun.”

“Okay, wait,” Sungjin says, holding Dowoon steady by the shoulders. “I like you. Yes, I am dating you with serious intentions--or trying to, anyway. Now why are we here? I had plans for a nice dinner, maybe ice-skating. You know, nice and romantic.”

“Ah,” Dowoon says, smiling as they continue down the main path, heading to the biggest building on palace grounds. “That’s exactly why we’re here. Do you know why most romance fails?”

“Why?”

“Because once they get to know each other, they feel disillusioned. They feel like, we did all of the romantic stuff and so now that we know each other, why did it stop?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Come on, Park Sungjin. Think! Freshman year. What do we know about Deoksugung Palace?”

“It was the main seat of power during the Japanese occupation?”

“Yes,” Dowoon says, grinning triumphantly. “Which means that this is the castle where the most people died. Over there is the Break Up Wall where one of the ancient princesses was forced to cancel her engagement to a prince she loved because she was going to be shipped off to another country. It’s also where they filmed one of the saddest scenes in Jewel In The Palace. So now couples go there to break up.”

“You wanted our first date to be in a place where people were murdered which is also incidentally a place where couples break up?” Sungjin runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “If you didn’t want to go out with me, you could’ve just said so.”

Dowoon raises an eyebrow. “Do you think I would be here if I didn’t want to be?”

“Well, I mean--”

“--see, if you and I end up working out despite the fact that on our first date, we paid for our own meals and it was devoid of any romantic things and in fact, we _bathed_ in the vibes of a place where deception, betrayal, treachery, death, and the end of love all took place, then that can only mean one thing.”

“We are...evil?”

“No, my dear Class President,” Dowoon says, walking past Sungjin. He looks back over his shoulder, grins as Sungjin tries to keep up. “It’ll mean we’re meant to be. Now hurry up.”

 

Younghyun glances at the clock. 12:01 AM. He pulls open the browser again, checks up on Jae’s YouTube video. He’d figured out the algorithm--it’s a pretty basic one, one he suspects that YouTube will probably change once the market starts to get competitive. It counts views even from the same IP, even when refreshed: and after 300 views, videos begin to appear in the sidebar, under the Recommended videos bit.

Currently, the bar reads 299. Younghyun grins. Here goes nothing. He hits refresh. 300.

He opens a new window, logs in as a new user, types in _acoustic music covers_ , listens to whatever’s at the top. He glances at the sidebar. _Bingo--_ You & I Both (English Cover, yellowpostitman). He grins, clicks Jae’s video to watch the views rise: 310, 370, 409, 428.

_Not bad, Kang Younghyun. Not bad._

 

Jae presses Wonpil onto the bed, Wonpil’s arms coming to loop around his neck. He kisses him deep, hard, all the day’s pent up energy suddenly coming to surface as Wonpil sighs under him. Wonpil’s hands skim under the fabric of Jae’s shirt, both of them still dressed from the formal dinner. Jae leans into his touch, his own fingers undoing the buttons of Wonpil’s buttondown. Jae leans in to kiss his neck, his throat, to kiss down his ribs, the hollow of his pelvis.

“Oh my god,” Wonpil says, half-laughing as he trembles under Jae’s touch.

“Good?” Jae asks, feeling himself getting hard at the sight of Wonpil--kiss-bitten, skin flushed from excitement.

“Mmm,” Wonpil says, nodding, pulling Jae back down to kiss him, this time slipping a hand between them, palming Jae’s cock through his slacks. “That okay?”

Jae nods, nipping at Wonpil’s lower lip before licking up into his mouth. “Yeah--yeah, it’s really, really good.”

He uses a hand to brace himself against the bed as he bucks his hips against Wonpil’s hand, in turn bringing his thigh flush with Wonpil’s own hardening cock. “Oh my god--Jae--”

With that, Jae lets off, breathless and at this point, too turned on to feel tired, pulls at the buttons of Wonpil’s pants, pulls down his zipper, shimmies his pants off of him before tossing them to the floor.

“What are you doing--we don’t have supplies--” Wonpil manages under bated breath.

“Not that--and probably wouldn’t be a good idea because you have to do the Baduk thing tomorrow. But we have hotel lotion and hands.”

“Right,” Wonpil says, grinning sheepishly as he unbuckles Jae’s belt, slowly peeling off his pants, underwear.

Jae takes the lotion from the bathroom before coming back to join Wonpil, both of them sitting up against the headboard. They warm the lotion up on their hands. Wonpil leans in to kiss Jae, sucking softly on his lip, tongue tasting tongue. With his elbow, he parts Jae’s legs, softly taking his half-hard cock into his hands, stroking slow, concentrating mostly on the head, bringing it flush with the fleshy part of his palm. He smiles as Jae’s breath hitches at his touch, his kisses becoming more frantic, his hips bucking into Wonpil’s hand.

Slowly, Jae works his way up from Wonpil’s inner thigh, registering the tremble that runs through his body as he lets his nail drag softly against the thin skin before taking his hard cock in his hands. Pre-cum mingles with the lavender-scented lotion. Jae strokes long and slow, Wonpil moaning into his mouth soft, whiny, frantic.

“Jae--oh Jae--I’m close.”

Jae goes faster, bring his thumb to circle Wonpil’s slit, fascinated by the kinds of sounds that come out of him. Wonpil goes faster on Jae too but loses his rhythm, loses momentum. Jae kisses him, strokes him until he spills all over Jae’s hands, dripping onto his thighs.

“Fuck,” Wonpil says, pulling Jae in by the collar. “Oh my god. Oh my god, that felt so good."

Before Jae can quite recover, Wonpil is pushing him back against the headboard, bringing the sheets to wipe lotion off of Jae’s cock, his hands.

“What’re you doing, Pillie?’

“You didn’t think I was going to let you _not_ get off, did you?”

“Jesus Christ--”

Wonpil begins to kiss down Jae’s ribs, letting his tongue trace s-shapes down the sensitive skin. Jae moans, hips bucking as Wonpil kisses his inner thighs, the crease of his pelvis. Jae is already breathless, lets out a cry as Wonpil takes his cock into his mouth gently, surprised by the sudden warmth and wetness. Wonpil doesn’t take him in full, only sucks on the tip, occasionally swathing his tongue over the shaft before coming back up to suck soft and slow. He watches Jae’s face as he’s unable to hold his pleasure back. He tugs at Wonpil’s hair, gentle but firm, and thrusts into his mouth. Wonpil makes a sound halfway through a moan and mewl, not-quite-choking as Jae goes faster, faster, chasing his orgasm. His lust is like a storm, and he, a stormchaser: only trying to speed up, only trying to be swept away. As he feels himself pulse, feels himself about to explode, he pulls Wonpil off of his cock, spilling onto his thighs, some of it getting on Wonpil’s lower lip.

“You’re fucking crazy,” he says, moving in to kiss Wonpil. Wonpil puts a hand on Jae’s nape, turns the kiss softer, more tender. Jae pulls away.

“I’m not the one who held me down over his hard dick, mind you.”

Jae chuckles. “Sorry, I got carried away.”

Wonpil blushes. “I--no, I liked it.

“Wash up then bed?”

Wonpil nods. “Can you hold me again? It helps calm me down.”

Jae frowns, that strange sadness tugging at him again. “Yeah, okay.”

 

The next day, Sungjin wakes up more confused than ever. He checks his phone--no texts. For the first time in his life, Park Sungjin has no idea if he’s done well or not. The night before had been fun, sure--but as to whether that was simply because he was with Yoon Dowoon, or because it’d been a good date, he had no clue. After Dowoon took them on the Murder Tour, basically recounting royals who’d killed numerous relatives in a plot for the throne, they’d had dinner at the convenience store by the Han River--instant ramyun with eggs, watching the river boats float by.

He sighs, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what to do next--and maybe more urgently, which of the six gifts he’d gotten Dowoon he should actually give him. If he gave him all six, would he end up being lectured on capitalism? If he didn’t, what would he do with the other six? _Actually_ give them to his mom? Although what his mom would do with silver skull-design stud earrings or Zildjian drumsticks beats him.

His phone vibrates. He lunges for it, the text interface lighting up. 1 New Message.

Sungjin smiles.

 **Yoon Dowoon  
** Where did you wanna have dinner yesterday?

 **Me  
** Semi-fancy cafe thing in Hongdae.

 **Yoon Dowoon  
** 7PM, you pay.

 **Me  
** :D

 **Yoon Dowoon  
**...

 

“So uh, yeah, I like you,” Younghyun practices in front of the mirror. He smiles. _Ewwww. Why would you smile after saying that?_ He puts on his neutral face. _Even worse--it looks like I’m mad at him. Also, maybe, don’t hesitate._ He’s picked a time, a place, has decided the most normal and unobtrusive way would be to tell Jae after the Secret Santa. He’ll ask him to come over on the pretense of showing him something on YouTube (also partially true--he loves a good brag). Plus, the Fender is heavy and that would mean he’d only have to help carry it downstairs as opposed to to and from Wonpil’s across the street.

He takes a deep breath, starts again.

“So. Okay, I’m going to tell you something, but promise me it won’t be weird.”

“What do you mean it won’t be weird, _you’re_ weird, loser,” he says to himself in an exaggerated impression of Jae.

“I mean don’t freak out.”

“Blahblahblahblah insert lame insult whilst complying with request.”

“I like you, Park Jaehyung. I’m not sure if I always have but I realized it this year and I just don’t think I can ignore how I feel anymore. I know I should’ve said something sooner and I know it sucks because I’m leaving and I know you probably don’t like me back but on the off-chance that you do, I was hoping we could go out sometime.”

 _GAH, no segue to the gift._ Younghyun clears his throat, starts again.

“I like you, Park Jaehyung. I don’t want my gift to in anyway color what you think of me. I was going to give it to you either way, whether I pushed through with this or not but I just want to say that I can’t ignore how I feel about you anymore. I’m not sure if it’s been a long time coming and I know I should’ve said something sooner and it sucks because I’m leaving and you probably don’t like me back but on the off-chance that you do, I was hoping we could go out sometime. And I want you to know that you’re a beautiful person--I’ve never met anyone else who lights up a room like you do. It kills me when you’re out late or when you beat yourself up about stupid shit or when Dowoon--or anyone, really--makes you feel bad about yourself. You probably didn’t get me anything for Christmas, but if you’re going to, please just let it be that you take care of yourself. You’re worth it and you’re beautiful and I just wanted you to know.”

 _Hey, that wasn’t so bad._ Younghyun grins, shoots himself a thumbs-up in the mirror. He heads to the desktop, checks the date again. Jae and Wonpil get back in the next day, around nine-thirty in the morning--and the day after that is incidentally his birthday _and_ the Secret Santa. Maybe it’d mean good luck.

_Please. Please, Birthday Spirits. Be kind._

 

Wonpil wins--not that that’s any surprise to Jae. Wonpil had slept soundly the night before--Jae had woken up in a cold sweat although what his dream was about, he can’t remember. They decide to skip the dinner, ordering room service instead, both of them antsy, kind of anxious about what they know comes after. The soup bowls and plates just a few minutes ago containing dimsum are cleaned out, empty.

“What’d you do today?” Wonpil asks.

Jae feels for the condoms and sachet of lube in his pocket. He takes a deep breath, tries not to let nerves get the better of him. “Basically watch TV. I walked around a bit, bought the--you know. Oh! And I worked on Younghyun’s Secret Santa gift. Oh yeah, don’t tell him.”

“We get back a _day_ before the reveal. I don’t think I’ll even have time to tell him. What’re you getting him? Or is it making?”

“This mixtape book thing? You ever see Elizabeth Town?”

Wonpil rolls his eyes. “You and your rom-coms.”

“Hey, okay, the movie was okay but the gift concept is cool because it has to do with travel and you know--he’s leaving and all that.”

“Right,” Wonpil says, frowning. “I’ll miss him.”

“Me too,” Jae says, his heart sinking. He tries to push the feeling of sadness away, his gaze falling on the bed, sheets replenished, the bed re-done. “So, um. Do you want to--you know?”

 

In a way, it ends up being like clockwork--practice makes perfect, Jae keeps thinking. They’re both naked now, grinding skin against skin, hip to hip, erections flush. Wonpil’s cock is slicked with saliva from Jae’s mouth as he’d taken him as deep as he could go, letting him thrust into him until spit dribbled down his chin, until Wonpil pulled out on the brink of orgasm. Jae kisses the shell of Wonpil’s ear, squeezes his ass, moves his lips down toward Wonpil’s neck, leaving a bruise there to match the one he’d left on Jae in Taipei.

Wonpil arches his back, nails digging themselves into Jae’s back. He strokes both their cocks with his free hand, holding them against each other, pulsing, the slide dragging, a kind of pleasurable torture all its own.

“Pillie,” Jae says, breathless. “I think--I think it’s time.”

Wonpil nods. “Okay, so--um. Do we play for it?”

Jae laughs. “ _Play_ for it?”

Wonpil shrugs. “I’ve never done this before so I figure rock-paper-scissors, whoever wins gets to pick right?”

“I hate to admit it, but fine--”

They play one round, Wonpil wins.

“Okay,” Jae says, rolling over to get the condoms and lube. “You pick.”

“Can we try you inside me then if it doesn’t work, we switch?”

Jae lets out a slow breath. “That’s a lot of pressure. Okay, I’ll be okay. I watched videos and things.”

“I’m not a pornstar,” Wonpil says, grinning.

“I know. I didn’t mean porn, I meant like, online manuals.”

“Right.”

“Pervert.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

With that, Wonpil leans in to kiss Jae again, straddling him this time, kissing him softer, slower. Jae’s heart aches, lurches at the tenderness of the gesture. Wonpil pulls away, opens the packet of lube with his teeth, squeezes a good amount onto Jae’s hands. Jae tries to remember the video--lathers lube onto Wonpil’s hole, letting a finger rim until he felt the pucker, and then pushing in slow, shallow, getting him used to it, the back and forth motion.

Wonpil moves back against Jae’s finger, reaches for one of the condoms, the packaging giving way to slick rubber. He slips it onto Jae’s cock before lathering it with more lube. He looks up at Jae, his expression bewildered.

“Are you okay, Jae? We can stop.”

Jae nods. _I won’t let you down._ Slowly, he removes his fingers, pulls Wonpil closer before slowly bringing the tip of his cock flush with Wonpil’s hole. Wonpil lets out a sharp breath as Jae pushes into him. He lets out a sharp cry, hands grasping at the sheets.

“Are you okay?” Jae asks in alarm. “Do you want me to--”

“--no,” Wonpil says, his voice a whisper. “Rub my back. I just need a moment.”

Jae smooths his palms over Wonpil’s back, whispers into his ear. “You’re okay. You feel so good, Pillie. You’re okay.”

“Okay. Okay--fuck me,” Wonpil whispers into Jae’s ear.

Jae thrusts slowly, the heat and the friction almost too much for him to bear. “Oh fuck, that’s good.”

“Try to buck your hips upward,” Wonpil whispers softly before nipping at the soft skin of Jae’s earlobe. “Higher.”

Jae does as he’s told, trying hard to keep it together, the head of his cock coming flush with a softer bead of flesh. Wonpil cries out, tightening around Jae. With that, Jae begins to thrust more sure, a little harder, a little deeper, hands coming to hold Wonpil steady by his hips.

Wonpil sucks on Jae’s lower lip until it’s swollen, Jae crying out now too, holding Wonpil closer and closer still, nipping back before plunging his tongue deep into Wonpil’s mouth, muffling both their moans. Wonpil’s cries get more frantic as they speed up, both of them chasing their climax: into, around, against each other, two bodies lost in the storm.

Jae cums first, spilling into the condom, suddenly worried, a little embarrassed at not lasting, pushing into Wonpil with everything he’s got left, everything a tingle from the overstimulation. He brings a hand up to jerk Wonpil off, going fast on the head of his cock, as he rides out his orgasm, thrusting, thrusting until Wonpil squirts onto his chest: hot, white, pulsing.

“Oh my god,” Wonpil says, leaning down to kiss Jae. “Oh my god, that was so good. I love you.”

Jae freezes, that impulse to cry building in his throat again. _No, no don’t fucking cry. Don’t you dare make him feel bad about this._

“Jae? Jae why are you crying?”

Jae lifts a hand to his cheeks. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

“It’s not your fault, Pillie. It’s--I’m just weird. It’s my fault. I’m weird. I’m stupid--”

“--you’re not stupid,” Wonpil says softly, climbing off of Jae, heading into the bathroom and coming back with a warm washcloth.

Jae pulls the condom off, tosses it into the bin and curls up on his side, sobs into the pillow, finally lets the tears that’ve been building up for the past few weeks fall.

“Hey,” Wonpil says, wiping Jae off and them himself. Wonpil touches Jae’s shoulder.“Hey, what’s wrong? You know you can tell me anything.”

Jae shakes his head. “I don’t even know what’s wrong. I feel like something’s wrong but I don’t know what it is--”

“--do you want me to make you some tea?” Wonpil asks softly.

Jae frowns. “Stop being so nice to me, I really don’t deserve it.”

“Hey,” Wonpil says, stroking Jae’s hair. “Hey, come on. Let’s get you cleaned up and into bed. Do you need me to hold you this time?”

Jae shakes his head. “Can I sleep in my room tonight, Pillie? Please. I’m--I don’t understand myself. You were good. It was good. I liked it but just--”

“--you don’t have to explain,” Wonpil says, wincing, not wanting to hear whatever comes next. “It’s okay.”

Jae picks up his clothes, heads into the bathroom, crying harder in the shower, hoping the rush of water will muffle the sound. After he showers, Jae puts on his thickest pajamas, socks, as though layers of clothing will shield him from the tidal wave of guilt and sadness, longing like an abyss inside him, but for what he doesn’t quite know. He falls asleep exhausted from the long day and the sex and the crying. He surrenders to it, again letting the dreams come.

In the other room, Wonpil puts on his robe, sits at the Baduk board, once again contemplating the white stone. _At least the game is over._

Jae dreams of water, water everywhere, everything illuminated blue like a Topaz through light--calloused fingers coming up to steady the glasses on the bridge of his nose, a hand slipping firm around his waist, a gaze held, smiling eyes: a question. In the dream, there is no shrill whistle, there are no other people, just lips softly pressing against lips in the most tender of kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is going to be. A lot of feelings. And we're barely halfway through! Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Next chapter next week.
> 
> Go on, yell.
> 
>  
> 
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	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were beautiful, the feeling of not wanting anything more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens.

Sungjin walks out of his room, keeping his winter jacket zipped tight so as not to rouse any suspicion from his mom. Underneath, he’s worn his fancy sweater, one of his good button downs. He keeps his scarf snug. He’d brushed his hair up, curbing the urge to wear a hat even if it’s freezing out. He’s been told in the past that his hair looks nice pushed back--and tonight, he’ll do anything he can to have things go right.

“Where are you going, Sungjinnie?” His mom asks from where she’s sat on the floor, mending one of his uniform blazers. “Do you want me to cook you anything?”

“No thank you, Eomma. I left some money stuck to the fridge--it’s my bonus at work. Please use it to buy yourself a treat. I’m just going to have dinner with Younghyun,” Sungjin says. “It’s his birthday tomorrow.” 

“Okay. Thank you. What time will you be home?”

Sungjin glances at his watch. “Before midnight?” 

His mom nods. “Okay. Take care.”

“I will!” Sungjin says, kissing his mom on the cheek before heading out the door, slipping his feet into his boots. He walks down their street, instantly regretting not having put on a hat, the cold biting at his ears. 

“Hey,” Dowoon says from where he’s leaning against the wall in front of their compound, figure half-shrouded in shadow, half-illuminated in the lamplight. He steps toward Sungjin. Sungjin looks at him--he’s wearing a navy blue beanie, curled hair peeking out from underneath the knit fabric. Under his coat is a collared shirt, on his feet are leather shoes, matching socks. 

“Hey. You look nice.” Sungjin smiles but braces himself for some kind of comeback, something snappy, stinging, but instead Dowoon just falls into step beside him. 

“Thanks. You too. Don’t you have a hat? You’ll freeze.”

Sungjin blinks in bewilderment as he hears a rustle, sees a flurry of movement--and feels warm fabric slip over his head, his ears suddenly warm. He looks at Dowoon, tousled hair blowing in the winter wind. “But--”

Dowoon rolls his eyes, starts to walk toward the main road, past Sungjin. “Hurry up. We’ll miss the bus.” 

  
  


The flight home was quiet. They’d barely spoken, Jae looking out the window for take-off and then falling asleep as the Captain announced they were cruising at the proper altitude, his head drooping against the glass pane. For the first time in his life, Wonpil had felt uncomfortable with silence, with Jae. He’d spent most of the flight going over the events in his head, trying to find some kind of logical explanation for the tears, searching for something--an instance, a tell--to mark when it had begun, what he could’ve done to change it.  _ What went wrong?  _ He’d spent the five or so hours trying to pinpoint a moment to tether the sudden shift in mood to, had come up empty: the kiss had been both ways hadn’t it? Hadn’t they both been there? Hadn’t they both held each other close? They’d had that talk, hadn’t they? They’d been having fun, hadn’t they?

He spent each slow, painful hour mulling over each of the memories, playing and replaying them in his mind: that first kiss, the taste of ice cream and wine, the laughter, the building of that strange, consuming desire--the two of them playing rock paper scissors, the way that Jae smiled against heated kisses, how safe he’d felt nestled in Jae’s arms. Wonpil had  fallen asleep at some point, his last thought before drifting off being the way that Jae used to look at him when they were younger, back before Wonpil had quit school in favor of Baduk: it made him feel like he was the only person in the entire world, like someone understood. 

The airport had been the worst because despite the fact that they walked side-by-side, that the sun was out, making the blanket of snow over their city sparkle, neither of them exchanged a word, neither of them laughed or joke or grinned or commented on the way that Jae’s hair was fluffy from being slept on while still damp or the way that Wonpil’s slippers were mismatched (one of them being pilfered from the hotel by accident). They hadn’t talked through collecting their baggage and passing through immigration, Wonpil’s manager the only one in a celebratory mood about the Baduk win. 

_ What use is a gold medal if the person you love is sad and you can’t do anything about it?  _

And now they’re sitting in a cab, watching Seoul pass by in a flurry as they head home. Wonpil thinks of ways to break the silence, this kind of thing never having been his strong suit.  _ Younghyun would know what to say.  _ The cab heads off of the exit ramp, makes a turn into their neighborhood. 

“Jae?” 

Jae looks at him, eyes wide, scared. “Yeah?”

“Could you come over later? Maybe after lunch? I think that we should talk.”

Jae nods, lips trembling again. “Okay. Are you mad at me?”

Wonpil shakes his head, feeling the tears building in his eyes now too as he forces himself to smile. “Of course not.”

Silence again, the thing he wants to say left caught in his throat.

_ How could I be mad at you for not loving me back?  _

  
  


Younghyun hears the gate squeak open, bangs his knee on the edge of the bed frame as he clambers onto his bed to peek out the window. He frowns, watching as Jae stumbles in through the gate, dragging his baggage behind him.  _ He looks so tired.  _ Jae glances up at his window. Younghyun grins, waves at him. Jae smiles weakly, lifts a hand to say hi. 

“Yo.” Younghyun calls. “How was Shanghai?”

“Fine.”

They watch each other for a moment.

“You wanna come over and use the internet?” 

Jae grins, the tiredness leaving his face for a little bit. “Sure.” 

Younghyun waits as Jae comes into the house, waits for him to carefully open the door. Jae plops down onto the bed, watching the ceiling. The pale sunlight through glass makes patterns like the surface of water.

“You okay?” Younghyun leans over Jae, watches a strange expression come over his features--halfway between gladness and confusion, relief and despair. 

Jae blinks.  _ Something out of a dream. _ Smiling eyes, quiet mouth. Voice like a brook, like it’s always on the cusp of laughter.

“Yeah,” Jae says, flicking Younghyun’s forehead before sitting up. “Just tired.” 

“So,” Younghyun says, rubbing the sore spot between his eyes. “About the YouTube thing. Guess how many views it got over two days?”

Jae rolls his eyes. “I’m really not in the mood for this right now. Can we please talk about that another day?”

“20,089 as of 07:00 this morning.”

“Fuck you. Don’t play with me like that.”

Younghyun laughs. “I’m not kidding, loser. You should know I never kid about winning a bet.” 

Jae grins despite himself, standing up and making for the desktop. He plops into Younghyun’s chair, opens up a YouTube tab, heads to the channel they’d made. 

“Holy fuck.”

There it is: 21,009 views as of 09:41 AM.

He scrolls through the comments, his heart pounding.

 

_ DUDE WOW TALENT _

 

_ More videos, please. _

 

_ I could die listening to this guy’s voice. Music for healing. Keep it up, bro. _

 

_ Holy C R A P where have you been all my life _

 

_ Sick tune, sick cover. Keep on keeping on, my mans _

 

Younghyun smiles, smug. “I fuckin’ told you so.”

Jae looks at Younghyun, feels a lump gathering in his throat again. When he speaks, his voice is shaky.

“I hate you.” 

Younghyun grins, leans back on the bed and opens a magazine. “Yeah, yeah. I hate you too.” 

  
  


Wonpil sits in the den, nervous as he watches Jae cross the street, a small tote bag in hand, his backpack hanging from one shoulder. He sits back down by the low formica table, trying to keep his composure, his head clear. 

Jae knocks softly before padding into the room, sitting across from Wonpil, before putting his things down, shrugging off his backpack. 

“Hey.” Wonpil studies Jae’s face--he looks happier than this morning, better rested. He’s showered, hair damp. Wonpil can smell minty aftershave and the clean smell of soap.

“Hey.”  

“You feeling better?”

“Yeah.” Jae nods, smiles a bit. “Look, Pil--I’m really sorry about last night. I don’t know what came over me. It isn’t that you weren’t good or that I didn’t enjoy it--and if I was going to lose my virginity to anyone, it may as well be you because I trust you and I care about you, but I don’t think I can do it anymore. The friends with benefits thing, I mean. I wouldn’t want to hurt you ever or to make you feel bad or anything like that and if we keep doing that, it’s going to eat away at our friendship. You deserve someone who’s--going to--well--” 

Wonpil hears the words but can’t quite piece things together, not completely, the picture still bare, a couple of puzzle pieces missing. When he speaks, his voice is even softer than usual, just a hair above a whisper. 

“--how did you know? I mean that I--” 

Jae hesitates, weighs his words. “--you said so last night. After.”

“Ah. Right.” Wonpil says, shaking his head. “I--I’ve loved you for a long time, you know. I don’t know if this is the time to say that but I always had this idea, this fantasy that everything would just fall into place. At the right time, I’d be able to tell you how I feel, I’d be able to do things properly. Ask you out properly. But things got all shaken up and I didn’t know how to stay on top of it--when would it be right to just go with the flow? When would it be right to make the first move? Baduk is all about timing, you know. I thought about it that first night, wondered if this is how things are supposed to happen--because isn’t that how it happens in the movies? There’s a moment and they kiss and they just  _ know. _ I feel like I should’ve stopped it but I wanted you so badly.”

Jae smiles fondly at Wonpil. “When we were younger, I had the biggest crush on you, you know. Back when you were still going to school with us, whenever you’d do that annoying thing on the bus where you used to lean on me and poke my cheek?”

Wonpil chuckles at the memory. “Hmmm. We don’t do that anymore.”

“We’re not fourteen anymore,” Jae says softly. “And I’m not sure when things changed or how things became different but they just did after some time. It’s this inexplicable thing. I guess when we kissed that first night, I thought it could happen again, that I could feel that way again. I thought it would just reignite itself--” 

“--but it didn’t?” Wonpil asks, afraid for the answer he knows is coming.

Jae looks down at his hands. “It didn’t. I really wanted it to but--it didn’t. And in a way maybe that’s why I was crying? I don’t fully understand it. But. You’re one of my dearest friends. I would never want to hurt you like that. I would never want to lose you.” 

“You won’t,” Wonpil says, tears brimming over his eyes and sliding down his cheeks. “You won’t. It hurts, don’t get me wrong. But you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

Jae lets out a small chuckle. 

“I kind of feel like cloth being wrung out to dry, it’s so fucking painful--but we’re stronger than that,” Wonpil manages through his tears. “I survived my mom dying, you survived trying to raise Dowoonie when his mom passed away. We’ll get through this.” 

Jae slides his handkerchief across the table to Wonpil. “Definitely.”

Wonpil wipes his tears, takes a shaky breath. “What’re you doing today by the way? What’s with the backpack?”

“Oh,” Jae says. “I never got to finish my Secret Santa gift so I’m heading to McDonald’s to finish it there. I want ice cream. You wanna come along?”

Wonpil shakes his head. “I’m tired.” 

“Okay.” With that, Jae glances at his watch. “I should go, I guess.” 

“Bye, Jae,” Wonpil says softly. 

Jae ruffles Wonpil’s hair as he gets up and makes for the door. “See you tomorrow, Pillie.” 

Wonpil takes a deep breath, listens to Jae close the door behind him, the chimes to the shop ringing as he walks out into the street.

His gaze falls on something left behind, right where Jae had just been sitting: a pink tote bag. Curious, he walks over to it, peeks inside. It’s a thin, black notebook with a leatherette cover. It’s filled with photos, letters, the pages bursting with color even as seen when closed, Jae’s messy writing bold in black ink taking up pages and pages, all of held closed with a black rubber band.

_ Don’t do it.  _

Carefully, Wonpil takes the black notebook from the tote bag, slowly slips the elastic off. On the first page, there’s a tracklist--eighteen songs. He turns the page. In Jae’s messy hangul, all of the shapes slanted, bleeding together so that Wonpil has to squint to make it out. 

 

Younghyun!!!!!!!!!!!!

First of all, Happy Birthday, loser. You’re another older which means you’re another year closer to living your dreams and also another year closer to being senile and grumpy and telling kids to get off your lawn!!!! CONGRATULATIONS! On a more serious note, I hope that you don’t hate this gift  _ too  _ much. As you know, I’m broke (as always) and so I thought I’d make something more meaningful--not just because you’re leaving (kidding, it’s because you’re leaving 150%), but because the things I’d like to say to appreciate you are things that would be awkward to say to your face. So instead I thought I’d make you this book + mixtape as a little companion for the journey abroad. 

When my family left for Korea all those years ago, I remember being scared and feeling alone (which of course didn’t last long because I met all of you crazy people) and I know how difficult it is to uproot yourself--moreso because you have deeper roots here than I did back then in LA. These eighteen songs are some of  _ the  _ best songs (in my opinion) ever because they’re a mix of sad and comforting and nostalgic and hopeful. I hope that you enjoy this. 

For the record, I’d also like to say that I hate you so much for leaving, that I will miss you so fucking much, you idiot. Who am I supposed to argue with about GD vs T.O.P. when you’re gone? Who am I supposed to get irritated at for being smarter than me? Maybe most importantly, whose internet will I mooch off of?

Just kidding. 

Most importantly, I’ll miss you.

Enjoy these songs. 

 

 

Wonpil turns the page. There is a collage of their old photos--them as kids in the flat their families used to share, Younghyun’s face in an expression of pain as Jae bites down on his shoulder cut and pasted alongside a picture of all five of them on the school bus back when Wonpil used to go to school (Jae looking at Wonpil--Wonpil traces this photo with his index finger). Above that is a photograph of Jae and Younghyun in the music room on foundation day, eyes caked in eyeliner. Finally, there is a photo of Jae and Dowoon pretending to be basketball players--skinny and dwarfed in oversized Chicago Bulls jerseys. In Jae’s messy writing underneath: Why couldn’t you move to Chicago instead?

Wonpil smiles despite himself, keeps reading.

 

 

1\. Hey Jude by The Beatles

Of course you know this one but I thought I’d put it in here anyway. Not sure if you knew this but this was actually a song that Paul wrote for Julian when John and Cynthia got divorced. The original title was “Hey, Jules”. In that sense, I like to think that they changed it so it would be more ambiguous, so that more people could relate to it. I listen to this song when I’m sad and I always feel better. I thought I’d include this because I’m sure there’ll be times when you get homesick and wish you were back here--but think of it this way: you’re taking a sad song and making it better by being over there. You’re doing all of this for your future, for your family. I’d also like you to think about all the times that you made things better for other people. They’ll never forget it, you know. Even if we got disqualified and didn’t get the Big Bang CDs or the tickets, I appreciate that you agreed to do that with me. Our practice sessions and English lessons really brightened up my days which otherwise would’ve just been filled with anxiety over those stupid college entrance exams. (I’ll bet I flunked those.)

You literally made this year bearable by being your irritating self. So. 

And I know this is kind of weird because I still refuse to believe that you psyched the lottery but I want to say thank you for letting us live in the basement unit. I was scared for a minute when you guys won that you’d up and leave. I mean you  _ are _ leaving but you guys stayed when it counted. 

My parents are too proud to say it, but we’re grateful.

 

2\. Sunday Morning by Maroon 5

This song makes me happy even if I suppose it’s kind of sad, even if I suppose in a way it’s about leaving wherever it is that you’re comfortable and feel safe, even if it’s about waking up when you don’t want to. It makes me happy because I think in the end, there’s hope that all the strife is worth it. I think maybe if we get lucky, in the end, we’ll be with the people we love. 

My favorite lines:

_ Things just get so crazy, living life gets hard to do--but I’d gladly hit the road, get up and go if I knew that someday it would lead me back to you.  _

  
  


Wonpil stops reading as his vision blurs, a tear falling onto the page, blotting out the ink on the final period. He closes the notebook, slides the elastic into place, puts it back into the tote bag. He puts it on the cushion where Jae left it--easy as a final puzzle piece slipping into place as Wonpil finally understands the bigger picture, the why and how of it. 

Maybe Jae doesn’t know what happened--or not yet--but Wonpil does.

He remembers those little comics and notes that Jae used to leave him in the care packages they’d put together for him and knows it in his gut.  _ None of them read like this.  _ He wipes the tears from his eyes in a hurry, scrambling for the Baduk stones as he hears the chimes in the store ring, Jae coming back, finally realizing what he’d forgotten. Wonpil rushes to the Baduk board, taking a seat, trying to keep a stiff upper lip as Jae knocks, turns the knob.

“Pillie? I left my totebag.”

Wonpil moves a stone across the board, not meeting Jae’s eye. 

  
  


“And you didn’t kiss him  _ why _ ?” Younghyun asks Sungjin early the next morning. He’s come over before the Secret Santa to give Younghyun his birthday gift (a gift certificate worth 20,000 Won for Burger King) and also, of course, ask for advice on his love life--something that as far as Younghyun is concerned, he is the least qualified person to dispense advice for. 

Sungjin had been panic-texting him since the day before, so much so that Younghyun had been unable to do anything other than prepare for his confession, not even read Jae’s blog which he’d been dying to do since Jae left later that day. 

But today the Fender and the confession are the priority. First things first: there’d be time for the rest of it after. 

“Well,” Sungjin says. “It’s Dowoon. I was scared he was going to murder me if I did and it wasn’t the right cue. And he was actually being nice to me yesterday. He let me wear his hat.” 

“I can’t imagine that.” Younghyun grins. “The good news is  _ exactly _ that it’s Dowoon. If he wanted you dead, I’d say he would’ve already killed you.” 

“Good point. I guess I should just go and do it. Just dive in like one of those...diving people.” 

“You mean divers?” Younghyun supplies. “But yeah, I agree. I think life is short and we should just all dive in head fucking first, you know? Just seize the day. Carpe the fuckin’ diem. Memento the goddamn mori.” 

Sungjin narrows his eyes. “Are you--are you going to tell the Chicken how you feel?”

Younghyun sighs but is unable to stop grinning. “Well. Yeah.” 

“Damn,” Sungjin says, grinning, not wanting to spoil any surprises. “Goodluck. I think there are pretty good chances he’ll like you back. I dunno.” 

Younghyun grins, claps Sungjin on the back. “Thanks.” 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY BRIANNNN!” Just then the door bursts open, Dowoon and Jae bounding into the room, Jae holding a white cake with rainbow frosting, doing his best to keep his balance. Dowoon pulls out a match, strikes it against its box, and lights the purple candle. 

Younghyun and Sungjin both startle, knowing what kind of disaster could’ve struck if they’d arrived just a couple of minutes earlier. 

“Jesus Christ. Do you two ever think about doing things like  _ knocking _ ?” Younghyun asks pointedly.

“Nah,” Jae says. “It’s  _ your  _ house. It’s like asking your parents if you can eat their food.”

“How is that--”

“--why?” Dowoon asks, eyes fixed on Sungjin. “What were you two doing in here that you didn’t want us to walk in on?”

“Just talking,” Sungjin says quickly, averting his attention to the cake. He can feel Dowoon burning a hole in the side of his head. 

“Right.” 

“Make a wish,” Jae says, holding the cake out. Younghyun looks at him--today he’s wearing a bright red sweater, his hair parted to the side, glasses (as usual) in danger of sliding down his nose. 

Before he can stop himself, Younghyun pushes Jae’s glasses up the bridge of his nose with his forefinger. Jae looks up at him, eyes wide, both of them bathed in the flickering light of the birthday candle. 

Jae looks away. “The wax is dripping, just make your wish already.” 

Younghyun grins, blows out the candle. “Done.”  
  


 

“That is the ugliest sweater I have seen in the history of the world,” Jae says as Wonpil tries on Dowoon’s gift. 

They’re all seated around the formica table, having pizza for a change. Dowoon shrugs as he dips a folded-up pepperoni slice into his mouth. “It’s unique. See, this is how handsome Pillie is--he could wear that sweater and pull it off. I’m just enhancing his charm, making it obvious. So really, I’m just helping him out.” 

“You’re so unfair,” Younghyun says, laughing. “Everything Sungjin got you was cool. What did Pillie ever do to deserve  _ that _ ?”

Dowoon looks at Sungjin, does his best not to smile but the corners of his mouth tug upward anyway. “You didn’t have to get me so much. Jeez.”

Sungjin shrugs. “Christmas happens once a year--”

“--so how come  _ we  _ don’t have gifts from you?” Jae asks. 

“Uhhh--” 

“--back to the pink knit,” Dowoon says. “I think it looks great on Pillie. It’s festive, high quality, and brightens up his complexion. Pillie, you should wear that to your next tournament.” 

“Really?” Wonpil looks down at himself, grinning. “I guess people will find me more eye-catching? Although people don’t really  _ watch _ Baduk.” 

Dowoon grins mischievously. “Wear it! Wear it! Wear it!” 

“I’ll think about it,” Wonpil says, grinning but not taking the sweater off. “Okay, so it’s my turn?”

Younghyun nods. “Yeap.” 

“Okay. Well. I got Jae.” 

Jae eyebrows lift in surprise. He meets Wonpil’s gaze, smiles. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m better at keeping secrets than you thought, huh?” 

Jae rolls his eyes. “What’d you get me? A pink highlighter to go over your contracts with?” 

Wonpil laughs. “That’d have been cheaper for sure.” 

With that, he slides a small white envelope across the table over to Jae. 

“What’s this?” Jae asks, lifting the flap. His jaw dropping as he reads the font.   
  


**YG Entertainment Presents**

**BIG BANG**

**Live in Seoul**

**THE G.R.E.A.T. TOUR**

**December 30, 2007**

 

“This is too much,” Jae says, wanting to give it back, guilt eating at him like a flame slowly burning through paper. “I can’t--”

“--and I have another one,” Wonpil says, pulling out an identical envelope. “For the birthday boy.” 

“What?” Younghyun asks, his voice ringing loud in the room. 

“You two love Big Bang,” Wonpil says, trying to keep the shake, the tremble out of his voice. “You should go.” 

“I love you, Pillie.” Younghyun says, jumping up from his seat and throwing himself onto Wonpil in a big hug, squishing him despite his protests. “I’m not sure if I’ve ever told you this but you’re my best friend in the whole wide world. I swear to god.”

“I thought  _ I  _ was your best friend,” Sungjin snaps. 

Younghyun grins. “Depends who just bought me Big Bang tickets, I guess.”  

“Wonpil I can’t--” Jae reaches a hand over to give his ticket back.

“--woahhhh,” Younghyun says, taking Jae’s hand, shoving the ticket back into his palm. Jae blushes, his fingertips tingling where they’re flush with Younghyun’s palm.“What is wrong with you, Park Jaehyung? Don’t you know it’s insulting to give back gifts--especially when they’re amazing? Also. I’ll kill you if I have to go alone and have no one to yell at about T.O.P.” 

Wonpil looks at Jae, wants more than anything for him to be happy.  _ Please take care of him.  _

  
  


“What’re we going to do at your place?” Jae asks, panicking a little bit now, flustered from the ordeal with the tickets and dealing with his guilt whilst being mired in self-doubt about why on earth Younghyun wants him to go with him to his room  _ alone _ \--and of course, the prospect of being with Younghyun in a room alone now that he knows all the things people could do in a room alone _.  _ He frowns. What did Sungjin and Dowoon have to do at the arcade that was so important they couldn’t hang out for tteokbokki anyway?“We aren’t going to film covers, are we? I’m exhausted. I need to get my groove on for that, give me until Monday at least--” 

Younghyun leads them into the house, opens the door to his room, clicks the lock shut behind him.

“Oh my god,” Jae says. “What’re you doing?”

“I just don’t want to be interrupted.”

“What?” Jae’s cheeks are hot. He feels himself sweating even if his hands are still cold, the warmth in the house barely warming him up. “We’re not going to do drugs are we?”

Younghyun bursts out laughing, carrying Jae’s still unopened present close to his chest. Jae had told him to open it when he wasn’t around. 

“Why are you so on edge? I should be the one getting nervous.” 

“Whu?” Jae asks, voice high-pitched, anxious.

Younghyun takes a deep breath, trying to remember the speech that he’d practiced over and over again. 

He settles Jae down on the bed. “Okay, sit there.” 

Jae does as he’s told. He feels his heart thundering in his chest--suddenly aware of how soft the bed is, of how the sheets feel under his hands, how the spring squeaks when weight is put on it.  _ No. No, stop it.  _ “What’s happening?”

“Close your eyes,” Younghyun says. 

Jae frowns. “Is this a prank? Are Dowoon and Sungjin going to come in here dressed as ghosts?”

“Hey,” Younghyun says, holding Jae’s gaze level. “Come on. Birthday boy rights. Close your eyes.” 

Jae lets out an exasperated sigh but eventually relents, letting his eyelids flutter shut. He hears Younghyun rustling around the room, the sound of something hard and heavy being dragged out from under the bed.  _ Please don’t let it be some creepy mannequin--or well, a corpse.  _

“Okay,” Younghyun says, dusting his hands off on his jeans. “Open.”

Jae opens his eyes, not sure what he’s looking at exactly. It takes him a moment to register that standing in front of him is a rectangular-shaped package wrapped in pink paper with a red, sloppily tied bow of shiny Christmas ribbon drooping over the sides. “What’s that?”

“What do you  _ think _ ?”

Jae’s eyebrows furrow. “A...cadaver?”

Younghyun rolls his eyes. “Your Christmas gift, smartass.” 

“But you didn’t pick me at Secret Santa--” 

“--well, I’m leaving--”

“--stop saying that,” Jae says, kicking at Younghyun. 

Younghyun laughs. “Well then just open the damn thing. I tried to make the bow as ugly as yours’ but I couldn’t quite compete.” 

“Har har, very funny.” Jae kneels by the box, reaches down to pull at the ribbon, watches as the scarlet slowly unspools. He knocks on the package. Hard, the sound muffled--like a suitcase or--he blinks.  _ No way--no way he didn’t.  _ Jae peels the rest of the wrapping open slowly, holding his breath, not daring to hope that it is what he hopes it is. 

“God, just rip it up already,” Younghyun says. “Seriously, it wasn’t that hard to wrap.”

“Oh my fucking god.” Jae’s eyes grow wide, fingertips tracing the guitar case before undoing the clasps, lifting it up to see the gleaming amber body of the signature Fender Strat. “What the fuck, Kang Younghyun?” 

Younghyun grins. “Well, do you like it?”

“Do I like it? Do you like  _ breathing _ ? Do you like eating burgers?” 

“There’s a card,” Younghyun points out. 

“Oh right,” Jae says, plucking the small envelope from the case. He scans the card, realizes that Younghyun’s written it in English, realizes that he’s signed his name as Brian, realizes that he’s leaving. Tears start to well in his eyes, it suddenly becomes hard to breathe.  _ Fuck. Why won’t the world let me stop crying?  _

“Thank you, you stupid idiot,” Jae jumps up, throws his arms around Younghyun. 

“Oh.” Younghyun brings his arms to loop around Jae’s waist, rests his head gently on Jae’s shoulder. He smells clean, is warm, the flannel of his shirt soft. “You’re welcome. I just wanted to do something special.”

When Jae speaks, his voice is trembling. “I’m soaking the back of your shirt with my tears.” 

Younghyun chuckles. Jae likes how it feels against his chest--that comforting rumble, that movement that means happiness. “Glad to be of service.” 

“PARK JAEHYUNG!!!” Mrs. Park’s voice comes ringing through the courtyard from the basement unit. 

They jump apart. 

_ Oh no.  _ Younghyun panics, scrambling for words, suddenly forgetting his speech.  _  I need to do it now.  _

“PARK JAEHYUNG! YOU GOT INTO COLLEGE!” They crane their necks to look out the window to see Jae’s mom, still in her apron over her business suit, holding two large white envelopes. 

“HOLY CRAP!” Jae exclaims. 

“Should I--” Younghyun looks down at the guitar.

“--I’ll come back for it in a few hours,” Jae says excitedly.

“A few  _ hours _ ?”

“Yeah! If I got into college, that means she’ll let me watch TV or better yet buy me food.” 

“What are you, like twelve?”

“Maybe. But really, thank you. Thank you thank you thank you. I don’t have enough words to say it.” Jae watches Younghyun’s face, a strange fluttering feeling in his gut. He puts a hand around Younghyun’s wrist, tugs him closer. Younghyun feels a little flip in his stomach, his cheeks starting to get warm, but doesn’t move away, is suddenly aware of them inching closer, Jae’s lips so close that if he spoke now, they would brush. 

The door knob clicks, turns, someone trying to turn it despite it being locked. 

Younghyun’s mom bangs on the door with her fist. “Jaehyung! Your mom is outside, yelling. Hurry up! And then come back here we’ll order a pizza to celebrate.” 

Jae grins, reaches over to ruffle Younghyun’s hair. “To be continued, then.” 

Younghyun feels like a gymnast is doing somersaults in his stomach. “I’ll take you up on that.” 

  
  


Younghyun lies back on the bed, hearing the grown ups hustling outside, overhearing Jae and his mom downstairs, bickering over the remote even as she congratulates him on getting into college. He hears Dowoon yelling food order confirmations. Younghyun grins, stares up at the ceiling. Yeah sure, he hadn’t been able to confess, but at least he’d given Jae his gift. At least there’d been that moment, that promise of--something.  _ Something to hold onto. This is the best birthday ever. _

He glances at the clock. 4:20 PM. Jae would be back at five.  _ The longest 40 minutes of my life.  _

His eyes fall on the desktop.  _ Right.  _ He’d been meaning to read the latest entry on Jae’s blog. He wonders if there’ll be anything about him in there. Probably not, he thinks, even as hope starts to flower in his heart.  _ Not yet, anyway.  _

He walks over to the desktop, loads the URL. Younghyun’s eyebrows furrow, confusion settling in as the page boots.

 

**On losing my virginity and other stupid things.**

 

I don’t give a lot of advice on here (unironically anyway) but here, have the biggest sack of salt on me, your friendly, neighborhood yellowpostitman: don’t have sex with your friends. Maybe you’ll say that it’s just for fun or it’s just a one-off thing, maybe you’ll say you’re just experimenting but at the end of the day, just don’t do it. You will be drowned in unending guilt and pain and misery. 

Not to say I didn’t like it--which at the end of the day kind of becomes the problem, doesn’t it? That’s what hurts: I was stupid and idiotic and hurt someone I care about all while enjoying myself. 

Will the self-loathing ever end?

It sounds narcissistic and evil and stupid but when he said he loved me, I already knew--and I didn’t feel the same way.

It’s not how I thought I would lose my virginity--not that stuff like that matters in the long-run but maybe I’m secretly a romantic. Or am I? Does it really count as optimism if you were naive enough to think that maybe having sex with someone or being their friend with benefits would rekindle that spark you felt when you were fourteen? That they would end up being your first real love? Your One Great Love? Maybe. I’m not really sure. 

I got carried away. Maybe it was the being in a new city and watching cartoons and eating ice cream and laughing and drinking wine. Maybe I just say that as an excuse.

In some ways, it was better than I expected. They always say it’s going to be awkward but it wasn’t with us. In that sense, I guess we’ve always kind of both been so awkward that we cancel each other out. It fit. When the wave of sadness hit me, I wasn’t expecting it. It’s like when you watch a really sad movie and burst into tears four days later.

I ended up crying on him.

Right after like an idiot. Right  _ on  _ him like an asshole.

Maybe I fall in love with images too quickly. I’m scared that maybe what I want has been right in front of me all this time, that maybe I missed it. Is it too late? Is it too complicated? Why does being happy always seem to mean hurting someone else?

PLEASE, SOMEONE SEND FREUD. (Just kidding.)

Anyway, sorry about the darkness. I’ll try to post something happier next time. 

  
  


Brian’s hands are cold. The images are too vivid, the pain and resentment and anger building in his chest.  _ It’s not their fault. It’s not anyone’s fault.  _ He feels a pang of guilt, all of it suddenly seeming to make sense: Jae looking exhausted the day before, Wonpil giving him the extra ticket. Brian shakes his head, a sinking feeling in his heart. The questions come flooding in, relentless: when did it start? Why didn’t Wonpil tell him? Would things be different if he’d kissed Jae in the pool that one day? If he’d said something sooner? Is Wonpil alright? How could  _ Jae _ not tell him?

He cradles his head in his hands, time suddenly going too quickly. He hears the basement unit door swinging open, Jae’s footsteps as he makes his way toward the Kangs’ front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed. :) A lot of people were able to send me awesome theories and thangs. And we have the first flash-forward revealing the groom and best man (although I think it is probably quite obvious) in the next Chapter. From there, it's just feels (fluff, smut, tension, quarrels, a lot of drama in the best way) for miles. :D I'll edit tags after Chapter 10 because I'm assuming some people will only want to read this knowing the endgame. xD
> 
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>  [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories of me have probably become a thing of the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the endgame--but how did we get there, you ask? That’s what the next 10 chapters are for. <3

“Sir Jaehyung Park?” The waiter at The Champagne Bar asks as he approaches Jae with a silver tray in hand, on which an elegant flute of champagne sits bubbling, pale gold in the light. “Compliments of the gentleman at the bar--he says he’s thoroughly enjoyed your latest album.”

Jae looks up from the schedule that he’s reviewing on his tablet--the indie record tour is a two-week affair, a slow crawl from the west to the east coast: he’d decided to do it old school, with a tour bus, instead of the usual plane, to go back to his independent content-creator roots. There’s something refreshing about doing things himself, about not letting a manager or anyone have a say in what he wants to do, how he wants to run the shows. 

He’s prepared fan gifts, little games, quirky in-between songs, online inside jokes, has taken to posting mini-diary entries on his Instagram account. Just him, his closest staff, their security guy.

Overall, the gigs have been smaller but more intimate, banter-filled as opposed to theatrical, spectacle giving way to something more laid-back. He likes the immersion. He’s enjoyed taking photos, writing little daily e-mails to his boyfriend--scratch that,  _ fiancee _ now, he reminds himself. He misses him of course, but the long letters and emails and back-and-forth are so pleasant, so undeniably  **_them_ ** that he knows the wait will be worth it, knows that when he gets off that plane two days from now, it’ll be the best feeling in the world to see him waiting at Arrivals.  _ It’s like falling in love all over again. _

After reviewing tomorrow’s schedule, he’d planned on maybe checking with Sungjin about the coordinations for the wedding (guest accommodations, food preparations), maybe putting on a face mask and reading the last few chapters of Banana Yoshimoto’s Kitchen, and then hitting the sack early. He isn’t really in the mood to socialize, having spent most of the past two weeks doing just that.

“My apologies,” Jae says to the waiter. “I don’t want to be rude or anything, but please tell the gentleman thank you for enjoying the album--and he can have the champagne on me.”

“Of course, Sir.” The waiter nods politely before heading back to the bar.

 

Jae opens the door to Brian’s room and is met by Brian pulling it open all the way, handing him the guitar case. Jae is taken by surprise, the gesture and the weight of the case catching him off-guard. He finds himself stumbling forward a little bit as Brian lets the handle go. Instinctively, Brian reaches a hand out to steady Jae--and then withdraws it quickly, like someone who’s just realized the pot they’re holding is white-hot. 

“Woah. Hey,” Jae says, eyes wide. “You okay? I thought we could--”

“--I’m busy,” Younghyun says, trying but failing to keep the anger out of his voice. He looks at Jae: the confused expression on his face, his mouth slightly open as if unsure what to say, forehead creased in worry.  _ Be nice.  _ “Maybe next time.”

“Next time?” Jae echoes. “What’re you doing anyway? It’s Christmas vacation so don’t say you’re studying. Come on, no excuses. My mom gave me money, I was going to ask if you wanted to go get coffee. I’ll treat you!” 

Younghyun blinks.  _ How can he be so fucking nonchalant?  _ His hands curl into fists, he feels the anger pulling itself taught inside him like a slingshot ready to fire.  _ Le t it go. Just shut up. Whatever you’re thinking, don’t fucking say it.  _

Jae tugs at the sleeve of Younghyun’s sweater. “Come on, Sulky Mr. Fox--”

“-why don’t you go ask Wonpil if he wants to have coffee?” Younghyun snaps, his voice refusing to obey what his mind tells it. “I’m sure  _ he’d  _ go with you.”

Jae jerks back like he’s been slapped. “What?”

_ Shut up. Kang Younghyun, shut the fuck up. _

Younghyun jerks his hand out of Jae’s grasp. “You heard me. Why don’t you go ask Wonpil if he wants to have coffee with you? What are you even doing here, anyway, Jae? Not everyone is going to just sit around and do things for you and wait for you to make up your fucking mind.”

Jae can’t breathe. “Younghyun, I can explain. I didn’t know that I was in l--”

“--there’s nothing to explain.” Younghyun walks back into the room, shoves Jae’s still unopened gift against Jae’s chest. The paper packaging rustles. Younghyun feels his heart lurch as he sees the tears build in Jae’s eyes. Jae opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. 

_ Stop it. Stop talking, Younghyun. Close the door and pull yourself together. _ Younghyun’s hands start to tremble from the mixed hurt, anger, the struggle not to say anything that’ll do further damage--and then he sees the envelope for the Big Bang pocket peeking out of Jae’s jeans pockets.  _ How the fuck could he accept that after everything that happened?  _ He feels his anger tug at him again--Jae a bird resting perched on a branch, his words hard, heavy stone sailing through the air. 

_ Ready, aim, fire. _

“Because what’re you going to say anyway, right? That you just got carried away? That you didn’t mean to--well, not to be the kind of person who takes things literally but  _ fuck  _ that because you know you did. Newsflash: people don’t just accidentally fall onto each other, Park Jaehyung. Oh or maybe you’re going to say that you really liked  _ me _ ? Well newsflash if you like someone, you fucking fight for them. You do whatever it takes, you don’t have sex with whoever is in the vicinity. I’m not just some doormat who’s going to be waiting on your beck and call. I’m not some second option that you come running to when it doesn’t work out with boy genius across the street.” 

“Younghyun, please hear me out--”

“--don’t need to,” Younghyun says. “Because you know what fucking hurt me the most?”

“What?” Jae’s voice is small.

“That I had to read about all of it on your stupid fucking blog like some stranger. You didn’t even fucking  _ tell  _ me, you with your stupid emo speeches about me leaving and about how we won’t stay in touch and then something big like this happens and you don’t even fucking  **_tell_ ** me! You let me waste my time and just walk into that Secret Santa like an idiot. And why? Because you were scared or didn’t know what to say or to do well everyone is fucking scared. Well, congratulations: you win. Sure, I liked you, but I’m done following you around like some lovesick dog.”

“You didn’t--you aren’t a dog--you mean so much to me--I--”

“--how could you just let me  _ take the goddamn tickets  _ from him not knowing that it probably hurt him like a motherfucker to give them to me? How dare you make me complicit in that! Don’t get me wrong, I’m mad at him too and if I see him, I’m not going to spare him any of this either but seriously. What could you possibly say to make this better? Because I don’t think there’s anything that could make this hurt any less.”

Jae shakes his head, the tears spilling down his cheeks. “Nothing. You’re right. I--I don’t deserve--”

Jae sets the guitar down carefully by the door before running back outside and into the basement unit. Younghyun feels the tears spill as the door slams shut. He hears Jae running into the basement unit, hears him throw himself onto the bed, springs squeaking, his sobs pulsing through the floors that divide them. _No. No, no, no. I love you. It’s okay. Don’t cry. I still love you._

  
  


“Hello?” Sungjin says into the phone. 

“Sungjin.” Dowoon’s voice is worried, serious.

“What the hell,” Sungjin says, lowering his voice to a whisper, cupping his hand over the phone’s mouthpiece. “Why are you calling here? If my mom answered--”

“--I would’ve hung up, obviously, I’m not an idiot. And did you just  _ what the hell _ me? Are you being disrespectful now, Class President Park?”

“Sorry. Sorry. Okay, what’s up? Why are you calling?” Sungjin shifts nervously, craning his neck to check whether his mom is still in her room. He lets himself relax a little. Her door is still closed.

“Jaehyung-hyung...he’s...he hasn’t been out of bed for the past like, five days.” 

“What?”

“Mmmm. I’m worried. It’s Christmas Eve tonight and he says he doesn’t feel like eating and also gave us money from his part time stuff to go buy the roast chicken but says not to include him in the count. He keeps sleeping,” Dowoon says, voice tinged with worry. “Also--I tried to insult him today and he just lay there and smiled and said  _ that’s funny, Dowoonie _ then went back to sleep.” 

“Okay,” Sungjin says. “Let me investigate.” 

“Call me back.” 

“Ok.”

Dowoon hangs up. Sungjin dials Younghyun’s number. 

His mom picks up. “Hello?”

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Kang. Merry Christmas. It’s Sungjin. May I speak with Younghyun please?”

“Merry Christmas to you and your family too, Sungjin. Hold on.” 

Sungjin hears footsteps, Mrs. Kang’s voice yelling for Younghyun, and reluctant footsteps coming to the phone. 

“Hello?”

“Do you know what happened with Jae?”

Younghyun hesitates. “What’s happening to Jae?”

“Well, Dowoon called me and apparently he hasn’t been sleeping, eating, whatever--”

“--maybe he’s on a diet.”

“It’s  _ Jae  _ we’re talking about. When did you last see him? Did you end up conf--”

“--can you come over? I need to ask you a favor.” 

Sungjin frowns, glances outside the window where the winter weather has made a white mess of everything. He sighs. “Fine.”  
  


 

Wonpil slips a cigarette between his lips, lights up with a click of a lighter as he pulls his winter coat closer around him, struggling to hold the stick in place with thick-gloved hands. He takes a drag, feels the warmth pulse through him. He exhales the smoke--silver, curling into the pale December afternoon. From the rooftop of his house, he glances down the street for any sign of his dad’s black sedan. He’s gone to pick up the food they’d ordered from his aunt’s house in Incheon.  _ Coast clear, thank god.  _

The past few days have been a kind of mixed ordeal for Wonpil: on the one hand, the number of relatives they’d gone to visit has eased the heartache by way of distraction, but on the other hand, he found it all exhausting--all the cooing over him, the talk of family Baduk champion, the awkward questions about whether or not he had a girlfriend, the weird comments about how he was losing weight, how he should eat more. He’s grateful for a couple of hours of silence, of alone time. 

He watches their neighborhood: the way that the houses are laid out, watches the way that everything everything lights up, festive with Christmas cheer--lights blinking, fake holly hung up on gates, doorways. He’s always loved their neighborhood, always liked the way that everything was cozy and familiar, everything calm in its own kind of chaos.

But today, for the first time, he thinks of the possibility of other lives: living other places, having other friends, maybe doing something else. Baduk, well, he could never forget Baduk--but today, he wonders how long he can keep spending every waking moment worrying about the movement of stones. The whole thing with Jae has rekindled in him a kind of fire, the pain giving birth to a kind of impetus, another desire: to live. 

He’s found himself playing the piano again more and more, perfecting, reinventing old pieces, recording some old songs. He thinks about leaving, worries about his father, wonders what the future holds. 

He sighs, puts the cigarette out on the cold, wet railing before slipping the doused butt into his make-do trashcan comprised of an old tin band-aid container, clicking the lid into place. He’s about to head back in when he sees a blur of movement--Park Sungjin making his way across the street from the Kangs/California Parks over to his house. 

Wonpil lets out an inward sigh.  _ Whatever it is, it can’t be good.  _

“Pillie?” Sungjin calls, chimes ringing as Sungjin tries to push the locked store door open. “Pillie! Open up!”

Wonpil takes his time walking down the stairs, out into the music store. He unlocks the door, lets a frenzied Sungjin in. 

“Merry Christmas to you too,” Wonpil says warily. “What’s up? I’m not really free to hang out. My dad asked me to man the house while he’s getting food at my aunt’s.” 

Sungjin hands him a small, white envelope. “I don’t know what’s happening anymore. But Jae is apparently in some kind of depressive coma, Younghyun is refusing to talk to him, and is asking me to give you this.” 

Wonpil doesn’t have to open it to know what it is. “He gave you this to give to me? What did he say  _ exactly _ ?”

“Well, he said to give them to you and to say thanks but no thanks he isn’t going to be some kind of charity case.” Sungjin frowns. “If you don’t mind my asking, what  _ the hell  _ is going on? You  _ know _ ? You know what all this is?”

Wonpil feels himself starting to get angry.  _ How dare he say that? Doesn’t he know how fucking painful all of it was? _ “Oh I know what all of this is.” 

With that, he storms out of the instrument store, Sungjin in his wake. 

“Pillie! What about the shop?”

Wonpil marches across the street, over to the Kangs', looking back only to yell, “Fuck the damn shop!”  
  


 

Younghyun is lying in bed with his eyes closed, headphones blasting Radiohead on top volume.  _ This is the worst Christmas ever.  _ He tries not to think about any of it: tries not to think about the way Jae had started crying, tries not to think about all the cruel things that he’d said, tries not to think about the anger and the pain.  _ We’re going to be leaving soon anyway.  _

He starts to sing along as the song hits the chorus, belting out, no longer caring if his parents hear, if the California Parks hear, if the whole damn world hears. 

_ ‘CAUSE I’M A CREEP _

_ I’M A WEIRDO _

_ WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING HERE? _

_ I DON’T BELONG H-- _

Something hits him square in the face, light but painful, the sting on his cheek sharp, pointed. He opens his eyes, jolts out of bed to find the envelope he’d jettisoned Sungjin next door with lying on his lap--he follows the line of the shadow hovering over him and finds himself looking up at a very, very angry Kim Wonpil. 

Younghyun removes his headphones. “What the  _ fuck _ ?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Wonpil asks, his tone sharp, voice shaking with anger. 

“Minding my own damn business.”

“Who do you think you are, Kang Younghyun? How dare you give me back that ticket. How fucking dare you,” Wonpil says, his voice cracking.

A perplexed Sungjin closes the door behind him, still not sure what’s going on. 

“Do you really think I want to go to a concert with  _ him _ on the allowance of your good graces? Spare me your fucking pity. You always get off on being this nice, meek, good guy but you’re not. Real friends tell each other things! And real friends don’t fuck the love of their friends’ lives!” Younghyun stands up, hands curled into fists, forearms tensing.

Sungjin’s eyes grow wide. “Wait, what--”

Wonpil lets out a sarcastic laugh, runs a hand through his hair in frustration. 

“You know what, let’s  _ talk  _ about friends telling each other things. How the fuck was I supposed to know how you felt? Do I look like some kind of fortune teller to you? Does my den look like the kind of place to hold a seance? All you think about is  _ you, you, you.  _ Do you know how much it hurt him when he realized that he’d hurt me? Do you know how much it hurt me to accept that it wasn’t me who he wanted? Do you know how hard he’s worked on your stupid fucking Secret Santa present? And you’re just sitting there, moping, singing along to Radiohead. You know what, put some Wheatus on because you’re behaving like a fucking teenage dirtbag. And why? Because what--like, the guy you love loves you back? Because you have everyone looking out for you? Because you could go downstairs and tell him how you feel and sweep him off his feet? Wake the fuck up, Kang Younghyun. If you don’t want other people’s pity, then stop pitying yourself, go down there and apologize to Jaehyung, and go to the fucking concert. Because right now, I am so fucking mad at you I feel like I’m going to explode but I love that stupid goofball with all my heart. I love him so much it physically pains me to think about you ruining his Christmas, ruining the Big Bang concert for him, ruining everything when you’re the only one who can make it all good for him.” 

Younghyun blinks, his eyes wide.

Wonpil takes a breath, voice hoarse from yelling, from trying to hold back tears. 

“If it was me he wanted, let me tell you, I wouldn’t care about the past, about whoever else came before me. I’d only care about the fact that he wanted  _ me  _ in his future. And if you really love him as much as you claim you do, you’re going to go down there right after this and apologize. Then on the 30th, you’re going to dress the best that you can and take him out to the best concert that he’s ever seen. Do you understand?”

Wonpil holds Younghyun’s gaze. 

When Younghyun speaks, his voice is hoarse, soft, all of the anger and resentment shocked out of him. 

“I understand.” 

 

 

Jae ticks a couple of things off of his list, opens up a word document and starts writing his daily e-mail. 

 

To: burgerking@gmail.com

Fr: yellowpostitman@gmail.com

 

Subject:  **_On NY, NY_ **

 

Today we had the semi-acoustic performance at Academy Records--it was a  _ lot  _ more intimate than the NPR set which is odd because the Tiny Desk was at an _ office _ with what, like, twelve people, and this was at a record store with ticketing and a drumset and actual fans, but everyone sang along and had a good time and everyone shared a bunch of stories about what they’ve been going through lately. 

It was so nice. I wish you were there to see me get flustered and embarrassed and act like an idiot. But you have the rest of your life to witness the hot mess that is Park Jaehyung so no worries.

And anyway, if you  _ were  _ there, you would’ve gotten on my case so bad because I ended up buying everyone coffee after. Goddamn. Coffee is expensive--especially when multiplied by fifty or so people. Your business major ass would’ve burst a vein if you saw the bill,  **but** it’s a financial loss with an  **emotional** gain (ready to be married to this spendthrift, yet?)! So! No! Ragrets!

YA FEEL ME

Anyway,  _ speaking  _ of intimacy--I miss you, baby. I miss your stupid face and your stupid jokes and your stupid hugs and your stupid hands and your stupid kisses and your stupid knees when they peek out through your stupid ripped jeans that you wear in 0 degree weather. I can’t wait to get on that flight tomorrow and to see you and your family again. It’s going to be so much fun flying home to Seoul with you guys after flying back and forth alone all the time over the years.  

By the way, has Pillie replied about the Best Man thing? If he doesn’t, I think we should just--  
  


 

Jae is interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. He looks up, still caught up in his train of thought, confused and mildly irritable--until he realizes that he’s looking into the handsome face of one Kim Wonpil, dressed in a suit, one hand tucked into his pockets, the other holding a chilled champagne flute. Wonpil grins at him, sets the glass down. 

“Is this how you’re treating your fans now?” 

“Well, look who the cat dragged in.” Jae smiles, nods at the seat across from him. “Sit the hell down and let’s talk about why world-renowned pianist Kim Wonpil can’t reply to an e-mail about his two best friends getting married.” 

Wonpil chuckles, unbuttoning his coat jacket and taking a seat. “Well, he’s here now, isn’t he? So, talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed. :D I’ve edited the tags and should be responding to the spoiler-y CC asks. I know you guys will have a lot of questions, reactions, etc. just leave them in the comments below!
> 
>  
> 
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)  
> [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)  
> [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I still think of you sometimes, should I call you up?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) :) :) 
> 
> Sorry it took so long. Didn't have time to do a thorough proofread so I'll correct typos later today. Hope you guys enjoy!

To: kim.wonpil@vrowsellmusic.com

Fr: burgerking@gmail.com

Subject: **_Best Man_ **

 

Hey, Pillie.

I know we haven’t talked in awhile and this might come off very strange but anyway, here’s me giving it a shot. Last month, Jae asked me to marry him (yeah, it was cheesy, I’ll tell you about it when I see you) and we decided that we want to do it pretty quickly, maybe over the next six months or so because we’ve spent so much time apart over the years. We just want to live together already, be in the same timezone permanently, you know?

I know this’ll be short notice for you because I actually did a Google Search (that’s how you know your friends are famous, isn’t it? You Google Search them to see what they’re up to) of your tour the next few months and sadly, the wedding is happening two days after your last concert in Paris. It’ll be cutting it close but I think we can get you a direct flight? I’ll pull some strings if you’re amenable.

By the way, this is me asking you to be my Best Man.

Jae’s got Dowoon. Sungjin’s got his Trello app and so I had no choice.

Just kidding. You know that of course, it has to be you. You’re my bestfriend.

Of course, we’ll understand if it’s too short notice or if management won’t let you or whatever. But let us know? I really hope you agree.

Miss you, bro.

Love,

Younghyun

To: burgerking@gmail.com

Fr: mailer-daemon@googlemail.com

Subject: Delivery Status Notification (Delay)

 

The response from the remote server was:

450 4.2.1 The user you are trying to contact is receiving mail at a rate that prevents additional messages from being delivered. Please resend your message at a later time. If the user is able to receive mail at that time, your message will be delivered. For more information, please visit [ https://support.google.com/mail/?p=ReceivingRate ](https://support.google.com/mail/?p=ReceivingRate) a127si1482570oih.20 - gsmtp

 

“You like Jae-hyung? As in my cousin _Jaehyung_ -hyung?” Dowoon asks in disbelief as he watches Younghyun discard yet another top. He turns toward Wonpil. “And you _too_?”

Wonpil shrugs, smiles a small smile. “Mmm-hmm.”

They’re all seated in Younghyun’s room. Wonpil has calmed down, is working on a rubik’s cube he found on Younghyun’s bedside table. Sungjin is holding up two shirts on hangers for Younghyun to choose from--a big blue sweater or a white button down.

Dowoon is standing by the doorway, face pinched in an expression of disgust. “But _why_?”

Younghyun rolls his eyes. “Do you really want me to answer that and put yourself in an even more awkward position?”

Dowoon thinks it over, shakes his head. “Nevermind--”

“--he’s funny and smart and very handsome,” Wonpil says, grinning at Dowoon who is pretending to puke. There is the sound of plastic clicking as Wonpil solves the rubik’s cube yet again.

“Wait, but I don’t get it. So why is Younghyun dressing up? Why is hyung being all mopey and stupid? I don’t get it. Aren’t people usually happy when people like--”

“--god, my arms are killing me,” Sungjin says, struggling to hold up the hangers. “Just pick _one_ , Younghyun. And anyway, he’s probably blind from crying by now so he won’t even get to register what you look like.”

Dowoon takes the hangers from Sungjin. Their fingertips brush. Dowoon holds Sungjin’s gaze for a split-second longer than usual. _When is this idiot going to kiss me?_ “Is anyone going to tell me? Sungjin?”

“Uhhh that story’s not PG enough for you.” Sungjin’s cheeks get warm as he tries not to stare at the way that Dowoon’s muscles move, the shape of his arms palpable even under his thick Christmas sweater.

Dowoon gives him the death glare. “I’m turning _sixteen_. And what happened to me being a mature kid huh?”

Sungjin waves him off. “No one is ever mature enough to hear about their hyung’s sex life, let’s leave it at that.”

“Jesus Christ. Eewwwwww. Ewww ewww ewww ewww--”

“-- **_so_ ** mature--” Sungjin shoots back, grinning.

“--hey!”

“You asked.”

“Younghyun,” Dowoon says, turning to look at Younghyun pointedly. “Hurry up and pick one or I’ll kill you.”

 

“Well,” Jae says, taking a sip from his glass of champagne. “I’ve been on tour for the past ten days. Been trying to do the DIY thing, really trying to get back into knowing what’s going on. It’s strange what fame can do to you, you know? I mean, I’ve never really been a stadium kind of guy but when _You Were Beautiful_ was suddenly being played everywhere, the management I’d signed on with just hit me with this huge international tour and they were booking sports arenas where the audio is shit and it just got out of hand. Then it was tour after tour after tour. It spiraled out of control. I felt like I needed to do this for myself.”

Wonpil nods, grins mischievously. “Well, as world-renowned as you claim me to be, I’ve never had the problem of being over-fatigued from _too much fame._

Jae laughs. “Well when you put it like _that_.”

Wonpil chuckles, takes a sip from his Vodka tonic. “I’m just busting your balls. I understand how that might be. Maybe that’s how quitting Baduk felt like for me. Like I’d spent so much time doing things for other people--to impress my father, my family, to earn a living for us, to complete this image I had of myself. Playing the piano makes me feel like I’m free again.”

Jae clears his throat, pretends that the spoon sitting nearby is microphone. “Mr. Kim Wonpil, do you think that you’ll ever come out with a pop album maybe something in the same vein as Norah Jones?”

Wonpil grins, leaning in as though he’s at a press conference. “Well, I wouldn’t normally disclose anything like this to a reporter but seeing as how you, sir, seem like an upstanding young man yourself and I’m a little bit tipsy, I’ll let you know that the reason I haven’t been able to reply to my bestfriend about him marrying my other bestfriend is because I have, in fact, been recording a collaborative pop album that’s set to be released next year.”

“Oh my god,” Jae says. “Oh wow, Pil. I’m so excited to listen to that.”

Wonpil leans back, finishes off the rest of his drink. “Are you staying here? Do you wanna come up to mine? They gave me one of the suites with a baby grand in it--because of course, they assume that all pianists wanna do is play the piano.”

Jae laughs but shakes his head lightly. “You and me in a foreign city in a hotel room--I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Wonpil sets his drink down. “Ah. Well, we’re not eighteen anymore. Have a little faith in me.”

 

“Jae.”

The voice comes in faint and far away like light and sound when you’re underwater. Jae closes his eyes tighter, refusing to let himself wake up, refusing to snap back to reality. He feels stupid, just so fucking stupid--he’d been so close, so close to well, whatever it is that was going to happen with him and Brian: first, in the pool, and then again if his mom hadn’t interrupted. But of course, Brian was right--he didn’t deserve him, he didn’t deserve all the kindness that Pillie was showing him. He doesn’t deserve any of it.

He curls himself more tightly around his pillow, pulls his blanket over his head, hands over his ears.

“Hey, Park Jaehyung.” Someone nudges him. He refuses to turn, keeps his face to the wall. _They got back from food shopping early?_

“I told you not to count me in for dinner because I’m not hungry. I feel sick, okay?”

He feels annoyance build in his gut as the single bed dips, someone sitting beside him. _Probably Appa._ Jae sighs. As long as it isn’t his mom, he’ll probably be fine. He runs through the list of acceptable excuses he usually uses with his dad: diarrhea, muscle pain from playing too much basketball, a headache from studying too much.

“I studied too much,” Jae says. “My head hurts from passing the entrance exams, okay? Your son is going to college so please just let him be. That can be your Christmas gift to me.”

Firm hands start to tug at the blanket. Jae scowls. _He usually isn’t so pushy--Eomma must really be on his case._

“Look,” the voice says, the sheets nearly yanked clear off of Jae. Jae’s hands slip from his ears as he struggles to keep the blanket in place. “Just give me five minutes. If you don’t want to talk me anymore after that, I’ll completely understand.”

Jae freezes as he recognizes the voice. _Fuck._ Not turning around, he tries to keep his cool. “If you don’t mind, I’d really rather not be further chastised for things already eating away at my self-worth.”

“I deserved that,” Younghyun says. “I was such a fucking jerk. I was butthurt and I know that’s no excuse to act the way I acted, to have said the things I said. But I just want to clarify why I was hurt and you can do with this information what you will. I want you to know that I was hurt because I like you--a lot. Not as a friend but in a much, much more than that kind of way. Like in a I-think-I’m-in-love-with-you kind of way. When you come over to hang out, I feel like I’m going to implode from happiness. When you tease me and call me names, I feel like my entire brain is going to combust because it means you thought about me enough to come up with those stupid jokes. When you sit beside me on the bus and we listen to music, I keep hoping we never make it to school. When you sing, I keep hoping the song will never end. And when you go on those trips--I always go a little crazy until you come back because I know aviation is mostly safe but you never know, you know? You never know. Life is short and I’ve been wanting to say something but I’m an idiot and am obsessive with words and am a coward and want to say everything just right, want every moment to be just right.  I feel like I’m going to die if I don’t know you’re okay, if I don’t know that you’re doing alright. It kills me when you put yourself down, when you make these self-deprecating jokes about you being dumb or untalented or unlucky or whatever stupid thing isn’t true. And I want to say I’m sorry for reading your blog without telling you about it. I’m sorry for low-key spying on you. You forgot to erase your history and I saw my name--well, I saw _Brian_ \--and I couldn’t resist because I’m an idiotic narcissist. And when I found out about--about you and Pillie, I felt like everything was crashing down on me. I was blindsided and I felt all this anger and resentment that I had no right to feel because I really can’t blame him. Who wouldn’t fall in love with someone like you? Who wouldn’t kiss you if they had the chance? Who wouldn’t confess if they could? Just because I was an idiot, doesn’t mean everyone else has to be. And I want you to know that regardless of what you decide, I’ll always care about you. Regardless of whether you’re able to forgive me or not,  if you like me the same way or not, the guitar is yours, the YouTube channel and the camera are yours. I genuinely believe in you, yellowpostitman. I’m sorry for causing you pain. I’m so, so, so, so, so sorry, Jae.”

Jae feels like he would be crying under any ordinary circumstances, feels like he’d probably be bawling his eyes out if he hadn’t already spent so much time over the past few days leaking the equivalent of oceans from his eyes. Slowly, he turns around, finds himself looking up into Younghyun’s beautiful, dark eyes, glassy with unshed tears.

“Don’t cry,” he says softly, sitting up and pulling Younghyun close so that his forehead is resting on Jae’s shoulder. Jae puts his arms around Younghyun, Younghyun’s arms coming to loop around Jae’s waist. Younghyun starts to tremble. Jae can feel his tears against the soft hairs of his nape. “It’s okay, Younghyunnie. It’s all okay.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry--”

“--it’s okay. I forgive you. I’m sorry too, I hurt so many people. I hurt Pillie and I hurt you--and I didn’t mean to. It’s stupid-sounding but I didn’t know until later. And if I had, everything would’ve been different. But I was so stupid. I didn’t know that--”

Younghyun looks up at Jae, eyes wide. Jae holds his gaze. A question: _didn’t know what_?

Jae grins, shy, his cheeks suddenly warm. His voice drops to a whisper. “--I didn’t know that I was in love with you.”

Younghyun smiles. “Yeah?”

Younghyun takes Jae’s hand, puts it over his chest. Jae grins--his heart is pounding.

“Yeah.” Slowly, he brings his nose to brush against Younghyun’s, smiling at Younghyun’s bewildered expression before letting his eyes flutter shut and pressing their lips together in the softest kiss.

Younghyun sighs into the kiss, hands coming up to cup Jae’s cheeks. Jae feels soft, warm, safe. Jae’s hands find the fabric of Younghyun’s shirt, tugging him closer.

Jae presses himself against Younghyun--sucking softly on his lower lip, trying to memorize him in this moment: the taste, the smell, the Younghyun-ness of him. Younghyun tilts his head a little, lets his lips part, meets Jae in the space between: licking softly, tongue to tongue, slow, sweet.

When they pull away, neither of them can stop smiling.

Younghyun nudges his nose against Jae’s. “Merry Christmas, by the way.”

Jae grins. “Merry Christmas. Are my parents back yet? I’m starving.”

“You told them not to count you in for dinner.”

“Fuck.”

“Guess you’ll have to survive on the sustenance of young love.” Younghyun kisses the corners of Jae’s mouth.

Jae grins, tugging Younghyun closer and kissing him again. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dowoon says, sliding the door open with a bang. “You two are so gross. Anyway, Pillie had to go home and Sungjin had to go home and Imo and Samchon say we’re having dinner upstairs with the Kangs to save on electricity.”

“What? They’re home?” Younghyun says, panicking. “What’d you tell them?”

Dowoon shrugs. “That you were making out.”

“What!” Jae says in alarm, lunging for Dowoon.

Dowoon laughs. “Just kidding, jeez. I said you guys were talking about some college stuff and Younghyun was talking you out of your coma. That’s just payback for keeping me out of the loop.”

“Stupid brat,” Jae mutters under his breath. He turns to Younghyun, takes in his outfit--he’s really dressed up, white button down shirt under a deep, navy blue sweater. “Damn, you look so good. I’ll just shower. Meet you upstairs?”

Younghyun grins, watching Jae get up and off the bed. “Nah, I’ll wait.”

 

The piano is an alabaster-white baby grand, gleaming in the hotel suite’s bright light. Jae listens to Wonpil playing the song that’s going to be the carrier single of his next album. It’s a ballad, something about saying goodbye to winter, about the sunshine coming through, about the snow falling away, about letting go. The piano trickles toward the end of the verse as if punctuating every melancholy line. Wonpil’s voice is sharp, high, doing acrobatics with the melody as he pushes into the chorus.

 _Goodbye_  
_Even until yesterday_  
_I’ve been frozen up inside_  
_Just like that_  
_Gotta let go_  
_Gotta let go_

The small hairs on the back of Jae’s arms stand on end, the melody beautiful, haunting. The song ends, Wonpil grinning as he takes his hands off the keys.

“Well? Thoughts? Comments? Violent reactions?”

“I hate you,” Jae says, grinning. “You’re good at everything. You’ve seriously accomplished everything in Baduk and in your classical career that like, five and a half average people could all split between themselves and consider themselves lucky. Ugh. And now you’re going to be a successful pop crossover too.”

Wonpil chuckles. “I wrote that song about the three of us, you know.”

Jae tilts his head. “You, me and BriBri?”

Wonpil nods. “For the longest time, when I left to study music, I was still really mad at you two, you know. I mean of course, I couldn’t let it show--in a way, I was responsible for it too. In a way, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. You two couldn’t help but be in love. I saw that anger eat at Younghyun when he found out about us and I wasn’t going to let the same thing happen to me. I thought the distance would fix it, I thought new friends would fix it, I thought time would fix it--because isn’t that how the old cliche goes?”

Jae watches his old friend struggle to find the words, struggle to explain himself, the attempt casting a shadow across his handsome features.

Wonpil grins. “But when I got Younghyun’s e-mail about you two getting married, I figured it out: it’s a choice, you know, to be a good friend, to forgive people, to let it all go. And once I was able to accept that no one was going to do the moving on for me, it felt like that cold, cold place in my heart was starting to warm again. It was like Spring arriving--or that old Harrison song about the sun coming back. To be honest, I didn’t reply because I wasn’t sure about how to phrase things yet. His letter was so hesitant, so damn polite. I mean, I understand, but I want Younghyun to know I’m agreeing to it wholeheartedly. And I wasn’t sure how to get that across. So I wrote that song.”

“I think waiting for your album to come out might take a bit of time, Pillie.”

Wonpil smiles, hands Jae a USB. “That’s why you’ll get this to him for me?”

Jae grins, taking the USB and slipping it into his coat pocket. “Of course. God, you didn’t have to be so extra. He’s been stressing about it for months! You could’ve just said _Yeah ok_ and he would’ve been happy.”

Wonpil shrugs. “You don’t get the life achievements of five-and-a-half average people without being extra.”

“Touche.”

 

 

It’s the best Christmas of Younghyun’s life. Dinner was delicious--roast chicken, hot rice, tteokbokki, fried chicken, pizza (Jae’s request, Younghyun’s treat), freshly pickled Kimchi, grilled pork, japjae--and afterward, they'd all sat around the Kangs’ living room, opening presents for each other. Younghyun will never forget the way Jae looked sitting next to him in his deep red sweater, face lit up and smiling as he read the card on his parents’ gift for him (a Chicken Little plushie), leaning casually on Younghyun like it was the most natural thing in the world.

After opening gifts, the adults had pulled out the karaoke machine and launched into full noraebang mode--taking Dowoon with them, getting him to set up the wires and plugs for the microphone that none of them could be bothered to try and understand. Jae and Younghyun had taken advantage of the flurry of activity to go for a stroll around the neighborhood.

The snow swirls white around them, catching in the light. Younghyun reaches a gloved hand up to fix the hood of Jae’s winter jacket. Jae grins. Younghyun smiles back, his stomach doing somersaults from the way Jae is looking at him.

“Shame,” Jae says as they walk toward the end of the neighborhood with the pretty park, the snow-leaves.

“Hmmm?”

“If it wasn’t so cold and we didn’t have to wear gloves, I’d really like to hold your hand.”

Younghyun grins before pausing to pull the glove off of his left hand.

“What’re you doing?”

“Trust me.” Slowly, he peels the glove off of Jae’s right hand. He grins, skin tingling as their hands press together, fingers intertwining.

“We’ll freeze--”

“--trust me, I said.” With that, Younghyun puts their joined hands into the pocket of his winter jacket. It’s warm. “Good?”

Jae grins as they continue to walk. “Right out of a Beatles song.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if any of you are Jason Mraz fans but back when he used to keep a Tumblr, he used to write a lot about fame and being on tour and his dilemma about sports arenas being booked so full disclosure, just want to give credit where it’s due and say that’s where I got that bit from. Also, if you haven’t seen his Beautiful Mess: Live on Earth concert, you most definitely should. 
> 
>  
> 
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> [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You always thought of me first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t want this to end yeeeet, fam. But also--I can’t help myself. I want to know what happens which means I keep writing. Ughhhh.

“This is much, much better than English lessons,” Younghyun says as he leans down to kiss Jae again. Everything is soft, warm, both of them pressed together on a winter afternoon, the sunlight coming in a pale gold through the window as they lie entangled on Younghyun’s bed. Their hands are warm on each other, under the blanket, under their sweaters under their shirts. 

Christmas-pattern-socked feed rest on top of each other, peeking out from under the duvet--Jae’s mismatched ones (one foot Santa-printed, the other striped with holly, a hole in the sole) against Younghyun’s matching Rudolf ones. Younghyun adjusts himself on top of Jae, using his forearms to anchor himself to the bed. “Sorry, I’m probably heavy.”

“Not at all,” Jae grins, hands pulling Younghyun back in by the collar of his holiday sweater before tilting his head ever-so-slightly, parting Younghyun’s lips to deepen the kiss. He feels warmth bloom in his heart, excitement making his stomach jump like he’s falling off a cliff--but in the best way. “You know if they walk in and find us like this, they’ll freak.”

“Well, duh. I locked the door.” Younghyun’s smile is mischievous. 

Jae leans up to kiss the corners of his mouth, letting his hands cup Younghyun’s full cheeks.  _ Too cute. He’s too cute. _ “You really think they don’t have a key?”

“Whatever, I said English lessons.”

Jae squirms a little, parting his legs to get a little more comfortable--only to realize that, well, that position brings something not-quite-comfortable, the movement ending up with both of them having a thigh between each other’s legs, the pressure wakening an ache in both of them. He looks up to catch Younghyun looking at him, a bright gleam in his dark eyes. Jae blushes. 

“What?” 

Younghyun presses down on him, rolling his hips a little. Pressure, friction, a thrill of pleasure running down his spine. “Christ, that feels good.”

Jae lets out a soft giggle, tentatively bringing his arms to loop around Younghyun’s waist, pressing them closer together again. An old hunger rumbles to life in the pit of his stomach. “Oh god. Okay, these definitely aren’t English lessons.” 

Younghyun leans down to kiss him again, arms coming to tighten around Jae, his arms pushing the fabric of Jae’s sweater almost completely off of his torso. Jae sighs against the kiss, wondering if there is some sort of surgery they could undergo to just stay like this forever, to just be in this permanent state of bliss for all of time. 

Younghyun’s heart is pounding in his chest, all of his skin tingling as Jae pulls away from the kiss and starts to softly nuzzle his neck while rolling his hips a little higher, with a little more force, hands still keeping Younghyun close. Friction, fabric, fire. Younghyun feels himself starting to stiffen against the fabric of his underwear as Jae’s tongue starts to draw small circles on his skin. “Oh my god. Well, what’s--what’s this in English, then?”

Jae wiggles his eyebrows, smiles against the soft skin of Younghyun’s neck. “Making out.” 

Younghyun nods, lets his hands roam a little--registering the way that Jae sighs when his fingertips brush against the thin skin of his ribs, the way that he moves as Younghyun presses his thumbs into the hollows of his hips. Younghyun rolls his hips again--this time an involuntary moan escapes Jae’s lips, small and soft but clear. The small hairs on the backs of his arms stand on end.  _ He’s so sexy. _

“Jae, I--” 

Younghyun’s alarm goes off, the digital clock on his bedside table blinking red and blue. He puts a hand out to stop it, sighs. It’s time. Today’s the day of the Big Bang concert. 05:45 PM. The concert starts at 06:15. They’d already snoozed the alarm thrice since it first rang nearly an hour ago. 

“Noooo,” Jae says, burying his face against Younghyun’s cheek.

Younghyun grins, watching the way that Jae looks at him--eyes full of fondness, his smile full of joy. “I don’t want to either, but we should. Who knows when we’ll get to see them again? And together too.”

“Right,” Jae nods, suddenly reminded of the fact that when the summer arrives, Younghyun will be setting off for Canada. He holds him a little tighter, kisses his cheek, the corners of his mouth.“You’re right.” 

Younghyun frowns, watching the sadness fall over Jae’s face like a shadow. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay, alright? We’ll be okay.” 

Jae smiles. “I know.”

Younghyun sighs, not wanting to get up, not wanting to stop being near (well, on top of) Jae, touching Jae, smelling Jae, kissing Jae, just witnessing Jae in all his Jae-ness. “Well. Shall we go stand in a crowd together while yelling at hot men?” 

Jae laughs, kissing him again before finally letting Younghyun get out of bed. “Let’s.”  
  


 

Dowoon frowns at the screen of his phone (unperturbed, still that old, plain gray), glances outside as he hears the gate swing shut as Younghyun and Jae leave for the concert. He goes over the series of events leading up to what now seems like a permanent state of confusion.  _ Maybe he thought that I really wanted to kill him. Or maybe he was upset that I didn’t give him a Christmas gift? Did I overdo it with the dead people in Deoksugung? _

He thinks back to their second date: the cafe that Sungjin had chosen was cute, warmly lit, Parisian-themed--cozy but clean, accented with bright reds and blues. They’d each had a sandwich, iced coffees, had shared a cake. After that, they’d taken a short train ride down to the river. When they got there, it was cold, the wind biting but Sungjin had put his scarf around Dowoon to keep him warm. When he’d tried to give it back, Sungjin had said it was in return for the hat--and really, what could Dowoon say after that?

Everything was perfect. The snow, the way that their shoulders brushed against each other as they walked, the way that Sungjin didn’t try to do anything too cheesy: talked mostly about their careers, their futures. Sungjin was definitely going to go into pre-med for college, wanted Human Biology but would settle for anything he could use as a precursor for med school. Dowoon had confided in him that he was looking into pursuing pre-law: of course it’d be difficult because they didn’t have a lot of money but he’s smart, he can probably get a scholarship. There’d been a look in Sungjin’s eyes then--a look of admiration, of awe. And in turn, it had opened something in Dowoon, unlocking a feeling, a way of  _ seeing _ he hadn’t really picked up before. Not toward Sungjin, not toward anyone.

In that moment, he saw exactly how handsome Sungjin was: saw the bold curve of his shoulders, the sure way that he held himself, saw the proud arch of his eyebrows, the way his jaw is always set as though he’d know what to say to any situation (he usually does), the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the husky tone of his voice. For the first time, Yoon Dowoon understood what it meant to like that someone liked you--to like someone in  _ that _ way.

And he really, really thought that when they got back, things would go the way it did in the movies--that if he leaned in the right way, that if he maybe smiled more than usual (or, well, at all), Sungjin would kiss him. They got back a little before midnight, opting to say their goodbyes a couple of meters away from their houses in case Sungjin’s mom was on the lookout.

“So,” Sungjin had said. “I really had fun. Thanks for giving me a shot.” 

“Me too,” Dowoon had said and had smiled--the widest smile he had in almost a decade. “Thanks for asking me out.”

“But you asked me out.”

“Yeah but just ‘cause you did first.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Anyway, I was trying to thank you. So yeah. Thanks.” Dowoon had leaned in a little--just to see--had felt Sungjin take that quarter-step too, that is, before he pulled Dowoon into a hug, patted his head and said something about going home safe. 

_ What the fuck?  _ He’d forgotten about it for a while with the Secret Santa and the weird stuff with Jae and Younghyun and Wonpil but after Christmas, over the past five days, his fears had returned with a vengeance. 

_ Why didn’t he kiss me? He hasn’t texted in two days. Maybe he likes someone else? _

He groans, stuffs his phone under his pillow.  _ Stop it. No one likes a desperate person. _

“Dowoonie,” Jae’s mom says, peeking in through the small divider that separates their room from his and Jae’s. “You’re not about to go into a weird spell of depression like your cousin did, are you?”

Dowoon shakes his head. “No, Imo. I’m just. Thinking loudly.”

Mrs. Park grins. “Good. Your uncle and I are going to be going out for a New Year’s Eve reunion tomorrow with our high school classmates by the way, so you and your hyung will be on your own. We asked the Kangs and they said they’d be happy to have you two over.”

Dowoon makes a face. “Ugh.”

“I thought you liked the Kangs.”

“I do,” Dowoon says.  _ It’s just Jae-hyung and Younghyun will be lovey dovey and disgusting. _ “It’s just--New Year is such a marketing scam. We’re  _ Korean.  _ We don’t even adhere to the roman calendar as per tradition. It’s--”

“--the west creeping into and bastardizing our culture, yes, yes, I know. Well go to the Kangs’ or starve. Easy choice.”

“Capitalists.”

“Oh come  _ on _ , Dowoonie.

With that, his aunt slides the door shut. As it closes, an idea suddenly dawns on Dowoon--a sure fire way that he could finally get out of this state of strange confusion (of thinking about Park Sungjin’s mouth, mostly). 

Grinning, he reaches for his phone to text Sungjin. 

_ You doing anything tomorrow night?  _

  
  


Wonpil frowns at the computer, scrolling down to the end of the list of requirements for the music program in Boston. He sighs, wondering why everything has to be so complicated--there’s so much paperwork needed: diplomas, certificates. But toward the end, next to an asterisk:  _ or in lieu of these documents, a recommendation by an established musician in the field applied to, followed by an essay stating why the applicant should be granted admission.  _ He frowns, runs through the mental list of pianists he likes to watch on YouTube: his favorite is Yuja Wang for her style, her flair for fashion and really putting on a show--also she’s almost his age, just a bit older which he’s always found inspiring especially when thought of in terms of his Baduk career. There’s Lang Lang, child prodigy, whose technical prowess Wonpil has always admired, and of course there’s Mitsuko Uchida, a classic--probably  _ the  _ biggest name he can think of as far as piano is concerned. 

He sighs, wondering what to do about the demo, how to go about recording it, how to explain his situation.  _ I need to explain what I’m going through--it won’t work without that. None of them are Korean so they won’t understand what I’m saying-- _

His gaze drifts across the street, to the Kangs’ snow-covered house. He thinks of Younghyun and the video camera, feels a pang of pain. The night before he’d finally found out what it was that Younghyun had been doing with it, had seen Jae’s thumbnail in his  _ Recommended Videos  _ bar on YouTube and there it was: Younghyun’s room, his guitar, Jae singing while perched on his bed, long legs crossed, a small smile on his face as he looked off-camera at Younghyun. 

Wonpil downloads the form and then closes the browser, his computer. He sits at the Baduk table, but is unable to muster the strength to play. He feels an old ache settling in his heart like an anchor into the sea bed: far away is good, farthest away is good. He frowns, not really in the mood to talk to Younghyun or Jae or anyone but knowing that he will have to if it’s the only way he’s going to get away. 

He sends a text:  _ Can you help me with a video project? Very important. I can come over and explain whenever you’re free.  _

The reply comes almost instantaneously:  _ Of course. :D I’ll come over day after tomorrow. _  
  


 

The concert is wonderful--bright lights, an ocean of glimmering lightsticks, the sounds and production incendiary. Younghyun jumps to the music as they start to play a forthcoming release--Last Farewell--with the bass drum thumping, GDragon rapping  _ Big Bang is back  _ into the mic before the drop hits and the refrain launches. Jae watches him--Younghyun’s handsome face is awash in the glow from the lights, his eyes sparkling, his smile wide--and feels his heart lurch as he starts to comprehend the song’s lyrics. 

_I don’t wanna be without you,  
I keep hoping this won’t be the last farewell. _

Jae’s smile freezes on his face, a sudden longing to hold Younghyun close, to never let him go rising in his chest. Younghyun catches his eye and as if reading his thoughts, squeezes his hand reassuringly. 

__I don’t wanna be without you,  
Even if it’s just for today,  
Hug my clumsy heart before you go.

Younghyun pulls Jae into a tight embrace. The song goes through the rest of the chorus, everything else around them a flurry of movement, a chorus of voices. Everyone else is jumping, dancing to the music. Jae feels safe in Younghyun’s arms, doesn’t ever want to let him go. 

Younghyun leans over to whisper in his ear. “I’m going to hug your clumsy heart but not just for today, got it?”

Jae smiles despite himself, sneaks a kiss onto Younghyun’s cheek. “Got it.”  
  


 

“You know that I  _ know _ you guys have been going out, right?” Jae asks Dowoon pointedly after Dowoon has just told the most elaborate lie regarding why Jae should go up to the Kangs’ without him whilst Sungjin should come down and watch him--something about the right to education and the importance of self-schooling. 

Jae grins as he watches his little cousin’s face turn red--embarrassed is usually Jae’s color. 

“How--”

“--he told me, you idiot.”

“Well why’d you let me go on that tirade about education and how it’s important to study even if school’s out? I was talking for like, five whole minutes!” Dowoon frowns, throws a pillow at Jae. 

Jae lets out a loud laugh. “It was entertaining. I’ve got to hand it to you, Dowoonie. Seducing the class president under the guise of educ--”

“--I DID NOT SEDUCE HIM--”

“--okay so ground rules--no fucking in the apartment especially because you’re a minor and I don’t want Sungjin to get arrested--”

“--WHAT THE FUCK, HYUNG--”

“--but I suppose I can’t stop randy kids from dry-humping--” 

“--HYUNG--”

“--just don’t do it on my bed. I know yours isn’t as comfy but I swear to god I’ll murder--”

“--I’LL MURDER YOU IF YOU DON’T STOP TALKING--”

“--Dowoonie, you can tell hyung. You know, it’s normal to feel these feelings as your body changes--”

A slipper whizzes past Jae’s left ear. 

“--HE HASN’T EVEN KISSED ME YET OKAY?”

“ _ What _ ?” 

Jae thinks back to Sungjin’s eager expression when they were having breakfast at McDonald’s. He remembers Sungjin talking about wanting to get everything perfect, about hoping to get the chance to ask Dowoon out.  _ That’s weird. _

Dowoon shrugs. “It’s weird.”

“Well. New Year’s as good a time as any, I guess.” Jae says, shrugging. “And well. Why don’t  _ you  _ just kiss him?”

Dowoon groans, burying his face in his pillow. “He’s--he’s Park Sungjin.”

Jae sighs. “Well obviously.” 

“I mean he’s  _ Park Sungjin.  _ He’s perfect. What if he doesn’t want me to kiss him? What if he thinks I’m gross? What if he’s changed his mind? You know before I asked him to come over he didn’t text me for two days? Before that, he was practically flooding my inbox with messages. Oh my god what if he’s seeing someone else? I mean he’s older, he’s class president, he’s going to be a doctor. Do you know that he got voted most handsome guy in our year by the Volleyball Team? And then there’s college I mean senior year is literally the worst time to start dating someone--no offense, hyungie--because when they get to college they’ll probably meet someone better.”

Jae feels a pang of fear in his chest at the thought of Younghyun in Canada with other guys, other girls, other people more good-looking or talented or funnier or smarter than him. 

He shakes his head. “Don’t say that. That’s not true. If someone loves you, they love you.” 

“Well, for you and Younghyun maybe ‘cause you two are like mega ultra in love or whatever. But I’m just a  _ kid _ ! I’ve never even had a crush before this but when he looks at me, you know, I feel like I’m this amazing person. I feel like I can do anything.”

Jae smiles a small smile. “I know how it feels. So you should tell him that.” 

Dowoon nods. “I’m scared, hyung.” 

Jae throws the pillow back at him. “You’ll be fine.”  
  


 

“You  _ what _ ?” 

“I don’t want to go to Canada,” Younghyun says again as he drains the last can of punch into the crystal bowl they use for special occasions. He’s been thinking about it a lot since the concert and there are good schools in Seoul, he could make it alone if they would leave him money. He could operate on an allowance. He doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t care about business or about math or about anything else if it means moving away, if it means being away from Jae. He doesn’t want to take the stupid IELTS in mid-January. He just wants his life to be his life, the way that it is.

He feels fear swirling in his stomach like a tornado picking up speed at the thought of Jae finding someone else in his absence, at the thought of them drifting apart.

His mom looks up at him from the rice that she’s scooping out of the rice cooker and into a big bowl for serving. His dad frowns, dog-earing the page in the book he’s reading and turning to Younghyun. 

“Younghyunnie--” his mom starts.

“--honey, I’ve got this,” his dad says, taking a deep breath. “It’s normal to get cold feet, son. We’re going through the same thing. I mean we’ve lived here all of our lives--it’s familiar territory, we know who everyone is, where everything is, and now we’re uprooting ourselves. We’re going to miss everyone on this street: the California Parks, Miss Park, Mr. Kim. I know that you’re scared--” 

**“--** I’m not scared,” Younghyun says, his voice serious. “I’m not scared because I know what I want and it isn’t going to Toronto.” 

“Is this about your friends, Younghyun-ah? Because you’ll make new friends there. And you can still keep in touch with your friends from here of course. There’s e-mail and people can send videos in e-mails now and we’ll still visit--”

“--that’s what  _ everyone  _ says!” Younghyun says, putting the ladle into the bowl with a clink. “But we won’t visit often enough and people will move on and it’ll be weird when we try to talk and everything will fall apart and people will find someone else--”

“--ah,” Mrs. Kang says, a soft smile on her lips. “This is a love thing, isn’t it? Is there someone special, Younghyunnie? Are you scared that things won’t work out because you’re leaving?” 

Mr. Kang’s eyes widen. “Oh. Right. I hadn’t thought about that. Son, you know, when I was young--” 

“--would you leave Eomma to go to another country just because things were easier there?” Younghyun snaps. 

“That’s different. I mean--”

“--it’s not different,” Younghyun says, shaking his head. “It’s exactly the same.”

“You’re only eighteen, Younghyunnie,” his mom says. “There will be other girls--I know that it’s difficult to think about now because you’re in love and everything seems perfect but you’ll regret not taking this opportunity. There will be other girls you’ll meet who--”

“--there won’t be,” Younghyun says, feeling a kind of outpouring building up in him.  _ What the hell are you doing? _

“--well, then if she is the one then in the end you two will find a way to make it work. Who knows? Maybe one day she’ll want to move to--”

Younghyun shakes his head, his heart pounding in his chest. “There isn’t anyone else like him.” 

“Oh,” Younghyun’s mom says, blinking at him in surprise. “I see.” 

“Ah,” Younghyun’s dad says. “Well, I’m sure there will be a lot of other smart young men in Canada--”

“--I don’t care,” Younghyun says softly. “I don’t care about meeting other people because he’s the one that I want. I’m sure about that.” 

“And would he want you to give up on your dreams?” Younghyun’s dad asks in a tone that is gentle but stern. “If this young man really loves you, he’ll want you to pursue your Business career, your Mathematical ability. You worked hard, Younghyun-ah--for all of us. He wouldn’t want it to go to waste. How would he feel if he knew that you were giving all that potential up just because you wanted to be with him? Would he want to hold you back?” 

“He wouldn’t.” They turn in surprise to see Jae standing in the foyer, still wrapped up in his scarf and coat, holding the box of brownies that he’s brought for dinner. 

“Oh,” Mrs. Kang says again, a small smile spreading on her face as the truth of the situation dawns on her. “Of course.” 

“Come in, Jaehyung. We should all talk about this, I think,” Mr. Kang says, ushering him into the house. 

Jae takes off his shoes, pads into the kitchen to stand next to Younghyun. Younghyun reaches for his hand, intertwines their fingers. His hand is cold, palms sweaty.  _ He was nervous. _ When Younghyun looks at him, his eyes are full of love. 

“I don’t want to go. I want to stay here with you.”

“I know.” Jae smiles, knowing suddenly what it is that he has to say. “But you have to. Your dad’s right. I don’t want to hold you back. There are ways, you know. There’s e-mail and phone calls and care packages. And I’ll be here, grinding, working hard everyday so I can afford to come visit you and--” 

“--but on the highdive you said--”

“--no on the highdive,  _ you  _ said to trust you because distance isn’t going to drive us apart. Because didn’t you work your whole life to not pay a cent on your education?” Jae smiles as he watches a small smile spread itself across Younghyun’s face.

“I did."

“And didn’t you figure out the algorithm of the lottery machine at the 7/11 which lead to you winning the lottery and you being able to help all of us out?”

“I did.”

“And didn’t you manage to balance being Top 1 in class with being part of the Mathletes with your passion for music?”

Mr. and Mrs. Kang smile at each other. 

Younghyun sighs. “I did.”

“So,” Jae says, squeezing Younghyun’s hand. “Aren’t you Kang Younghyun?”

“I am.” 

“Then I trust you. You aren’t going to get rid of me  _ that _ easy.” Jae says, reaching over to help Mrs. Kang with the cheese slivers for the galbi still roasting in the oven. 

“Now,” Mr. Kang says, moving from his perch by the easy chair and pulling up a stool by the kitchen table and grinning at them. “Tell us how all this happened.” 

Younghyun sighs. “Appa, stop embarrassing me.” 

Mr. Kang laughs. “It’s  _ Jaehyung.  _ We saw him as a kid trying to dance the macarena while dressed in a poncho made out of a garbage bag. I don’t think I could do much to embarrass you in front of him.” 

Jae laughs. “Good point, Mr. K. Well you see, your son has always thought I was drop-dead gorgeous--”

Younghyun sighs but his smile is fond. “--dear god. Here we go.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything has passed but you were so beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feeeeelings, feelings, feeeeelings.

Sungjin’s eyebrows furrow as he steps through the doorway of the basement unit, drawing the door shut behind him. He’d been lucky enough to have his mom head out for New Year’s with his aunt who was visiting from Busan, had been able to stay home on the premise of spending the New Year at the Kangs’. Dowoon’s invitation had come as a surprise--he’d been in the middle of planning what to do next, where he could take Dowoon next: he was torn between the movies (everything showing was western--something Dowoon wouldn’t approve of) and an amusement park (as fun as the idea of Dowoon on a rollercoaster was, Sungjin just wasn’t sure what he thought of mechanizing public landmarks as tourist attractions--as well as the hidden safety risks, especially for the construction workers who’d built the place).

He peeks in through the threshold and Dowoon is standing in the middle of the main room (split between the kitchen and living area), wearing a holiday sweater and wool pants with an apron over it. The place has been cleaned up, the low table set up with scented candles and twinkle lights around it. 

“Have you been cooking?” Sungjin asks, suddenly unable to stop smiling. 

Dowoon shrugs, walking over to the stove and turning the fire off. He slips his hands into mismatched cooking mitts. “Well. Kind of. It’s just ramyun but with special stuff like cheese and veggies and sausages. I don’t know how to cook anything else.” 

Sungjin grins, taking the bottle of convenience-store wine from the countertop and setting it down on the low table as Dowoon carefully lowers the pot of ramen. “Wine and ramyun sounds like a good time.”

Dowoon grins, watching the way that Sungjin takes everything in--the lights, the food, the fact that they’re alone. 

“Where’s your family, Dowoonie?” 

“My parents went out and you know--Park Jaehyung is upstairs with his in-laws,” Dowoon says, rolling his eyes. 

“Right.” Sungjin says, feeling sweat bead on the small of his back. There’s something different about Dowoon tonight--something softer in his demeanor, a little more gentle, more tender. It catches Sungjin off-guard. He feels hope start to bloom in his heart, a reluctant blossom like sunlight in a storm. 

“So I guess we should eat,” Dowoon says, lifting the lid. The smell of noodles and spices, herbs and meat and cheese wafts through the room. “Before it gets cold. Sorry we still use briquettes for heating so it takes a bit of time.”

“It’s okay.” Sungjin nods, opening the wine and pouring them some. He only half-fills Dowoon’s. 

Dowoon shoots him a dirty look. 

“What? You’re not even technically allowed to drink yet.” 

“You always treat me like a baby. You’re so annoying.” 

Sungjin grins, relenting and filling Dowoon’s glass up to the same level as his own. “If I’m so annoying why’d you set all this up for me?”

Dowoon feels his cheeks burn up. “Well, Park Sungjin, because you didn’t kiss me last time and I had a good time and people kiss each other when the clock turns twelve on New Year’s Eve in mimicry of westerners which I don’t approve of but which I will adapt so you won’t have any excuses this time. I’m just making the most of a system-created-and-approved scam.” 

It’s Sungjin’s turn to blush. “Ah. Right. Right.” 

  
  


“Your first kiss was on New Year’s Eve?” Jae asks, doubling over in laughter. “Holy crap, that is the cheesiest thing I have ever heard in my whole freaking life! I am revoking your tsundere card, Dowoonie. Get out of the club. Shoo.” 

“Yah!” Dowoon smacks Jae on the back of the head. “Just because it’s your wedding day doesn’t mean that you get to mock me. And excuse me, how can you revoke a card from a club you aren’t even a member of?”

Jae grins. “I’m the manliest, coldest person I know.” 

“I’ll tell Younghyun that so he can knock some sense into you. Or what is it that you call him? BriBri?!?!” 

“Oh don’t worry, BriBri and I knock plenty of sense into each other if that’s what you want to call it--” Jae wiggles his eyebrows.

“--hyung, for crying out loud!” 

Jae laughs, suddenly aware of the fact that they’re due to head down in five minutes, that Sungjin has confirmed the guests having been seated, the photos taken, Wonpil and Younghyun dressed and ready to go. “You’re the one who asked me to tell you the stupid story, remember?” 

“Yeah--so why are we talking about  _ me _ ? And as I recall, you  _ still  _ haven’t told me what made you choose Younghyun in the end.”

Jae smiles, thinking about how in the next few minutes they would finally be bound to each other for life. “I thought it was obvious.”

“Personally,” Dowoon says, shrugging. “Pil is more my type.” 

Jae grins. “Because he’s Kang Younghyun.”

  
  


“So what  _ are  _ your plans for college, Jaehyung? I heard your mom wanted to celebrate but then you fell into some kind of...mood, they said?” Mr. Kang asks, passing him the plate of grilled ribs. “Are you feeling better?”

“Oh yeah. No, that was just a lovers’ quarrel between me and BriBri.” Jae grins, swallowing a mouthful of kimchi before taking some meat. Jae drops his voice to a faux-whisper. “He was majorly jelly.”

Younghyun presses his palm to his forehead in exasperation. “It wasn’t a lovers’ quarrel. We weren’t even--”

“--why do you call him BriBri?” Mrs. Kang asks. 

Younghyun opens his mouth to say something but Jae beats him to it.

“There’s this character in this American cartoon who’s super sarcastic and he reminds me of Younghyun. His name’s Brian.”

Mr. Kang bursts out laughing. “That sounds like him! What cartoon is that?”

“Family Guy. I can find some episodes with English Subs for you guys.”

“Is that the Limewire thing--”

“--oh no, Appa,” Younghyun says. “Limewire’s the best way to get a virus on your computer. Torrent. That’s what people are into these days.” 

“So what was the lover’s quarrel about?” Mrs. Kang asks, wiggling her eyebrows at her son. 

“Nothing--”

“--Younghyun couldn’t tell me he had a crush on me and when he found out that someone else liked me--”

“--I’m going to kill you--”

“--it’s okay, Younghyunnie. It used to happen to your mom and I all the time when we were younger especially when these pesky suitors of hers--”

“--honey--”

“--gross, you guys--” 

“--can we let Jaehyung finish?” Mrs. Kang asks. “You were saying about your college plans?”

“An AB in Communications. I like the arts and reading and music and all of that--so that works really well for me. And I’m not sure if Younghyun told you guys but he’s been helping me with YouTube.”

“YouTube?” Mrs. Kang looks questioningly at Younghyun. 

“It’s this music video...thingy.”

“Ah,” Mr. Kang says. “I heard about that. It’s like TV--except small.”

Younghyun shakes his head. “No it’s different ‘cause you can choose what to watch and you can put stuff up on there for free too?”

“Why doesn’t Dowoon just use that instead of going out to all those rallies? It drives everyone crazy. He can just start a...broadcast or something.” 

Jae laughs. “If Dowoon had a YouTube channel, I’m pretty sure that someone would report him as being offensive pretty quickly. Especially if someone yelled at him in the comments.” 

“Speaking of,” Mrs. Kang says, realizing they’d set five plates. “Where’s Dowoon?” 

“Ah,” Jae says. “He has--”

Younghyun meets his eye. “--indigestion.” 

  
  


Sungjin and Dowoon are sitting on Dowoon’s bed, watching the small TV. There’s an old movie playing--it’s something dated, originally broadcast a few years back about the Joseon era. There’s a prince in danger, a love triangle, an emperor beguiled by an evil queen. Sungjin is watching the screen, thoroughly engrossed in whether or not the queen would be able to convince the emperor to behead his loyal adviser. Dowoon is watching Sungjin. 

He frowns.  _ Maybe he’s scared? _

Dinner had gone pretty well--after they finished eating, Sungjin had helped him wash the dishes. There’d been some mild flirting, some soapy hands and nose-booping. But after that, nothing. They’d sat on Dowoon’s bed and turned the TV on. Sungjin has his knees up against his chest, eyes transfixed on the screen. 

_ Well, if he’s scared, he shouldn’t have asked to date me. _

Dowoon takes the closest pillow--a small, square one--and hits Sungjin square between the eyes. 

“YAH!” Sungjin’s eyebrows furrow, a look of shock on his face as he reluctantly turns away from the drama. “What was that for?”

“I like you,” Dowoon blurts out. “I mean. I like like you. I meant what I said at the beginning that I think you have bad taste because I’m emotionally a little bit stupid. But I get what a crush is like now. I never had a crush on anyone else before so you better not fuck it up and make me think you like me when you’ve changed your mind.” 

Sungjin grins. “You’ve never had a crush before?”

Dowoon rolls his eyes. “Well I only ever hang out with you guys. And I mean, I kind of used to have a girlfriend in Kindergarten but that was different. I don’t think I really knew what I was saying.” 

“So how do you know you have a crush on me?”

Dowoon sighs. “I just  _ know _ okay?”

Sungjin’s smile grows wider. “Yeah but  _ how  _ do you know?”

“Are you fishing for compliments?”

Sungjin shrugs. “Humor me.” 

“Well,” Dowoon says. “You’re handsome. And I notice that you’re handsome. Not in like, a drama way--not like Pil, you know? You’re handsome in this old-school, matinee kind of way, like you would look really nice in a suit. You’re smart and I notice that too and everytime you say smart things to me, I kind of want to--well, I mean I want to--you know--”

Sungjin raises an eyebrow. “--want to what?”

“Kiss you.”

“Ah,” Sungjin says, nodding to himself. He glances at the clock. 11:57 PM. “Right. Well, there are still three minutes.” 

Dowoon takes note of how close they’re sitting, counts the inches it would take to close the gap between them. “You don’t have to wait until midnight, you know.” 

Sungjin grins, sitting up. “Well that changes everything, does it?”

Dowoon smiles, unsure what to do. He sits back, pulling the blanket up to his chin. “Does it?”

“Mmmm.” Sungjin nods, turns so that they’re facing each other. 

Dowoon feels his heart pounding in his chest. Sungjin’s eyes meet his and Dowoon feels like he’s drowning--honey-brown, like sweet tea. Everything is lashes and soft skin, the light playing tricks like water seen through light. 

A small smile plays on his lips--Dowoon watches the way that one side of his mouth lilts a little higher than the other. And then Sungjin is tucking a strand of Dowoon’s hair behind his ear and suddenly he’s too close to see, like looking right into a fire or a rainbow or the sun so Dowoon lets his eyes flutter closed.

On screen, the countdown begins. 

_ Five.  _

Sungjin presses their lips together. His fingertips are warm on the back of Dowoon’s neck, his palm is soft against Dowoon’s cheek.

_ Four.  _

His lips are soft. He tastes like wine and spices, like vanilla and mint, like tea and syrup. 

_ Three.  _

Dowoon’s hands find the fabric of Sungjin’s sweater, tugs him closer. He tilts his head, leaning further into the kiss, softly nipping at Sungjin’s lower lip. Sungjin lets out a soft sigh of surprise, the smallest sound in the back of his throat. 

_ Two.  _

Dowoon smells clean, like fresh laundry. Sungjin can’t stop smiling against him, can’t stop himself from pressing Dowoon slowly but surely up against the wall, putting a hand out to cushion the impact against the back of his head. 

_ One.  _

Their knees knock together. Sungjin parts Dowoon’s lips slowly, Dowoon coming to meet him, soft and slow. Teeth, lips, a mess--everything. 

On screen, fireworks explode. Out on the street, the sky is alight, alive with color. 

  
  


Jae pulls up to the Arrivals bay, bags in tow, his coat pulled tight around him. The flight from New York had been a short one--he hadn’t slept, had instead worked on a little surprise that he had for Younghyun. The past year had been tough for both of them, the joy of the proposal aside. 

Jae’s parents had finally moved out of the house in Ssangmun-dong to move into a bigger place in the suburbs and cleaning out the Kangs’ old house which they’d left to the LA Parks (for that first month Jae had slept in Younghyun’s old bed, refusing to change the pillowcases, the sheets because they smelled like him) had been an emotional experience. They didn’t want to go but there was no choice--land developers had bought the street. Time was up. Down the houses would go, and up, up, up they’d build the modern condominiums. 

Jae had found something in a small tote bag, something he’d forgotten all those years ago: a small notebook filled to the margins with notes about a tracklist for someone that he loved--loves. On the plane, he’d grinned, reading the little things he’d written: small, coded messages of affection-- _ I really like your internet connection  _ as code for  _ I’ll miss you _ ,  _ you look okay  _ to mean  _ I think you’re gorgeous.  _ After the big fight, after they’d gotten together, they’d fallen into a rhythm, there hadn’t been any room to remember the missing gift. 

So on the flight, Jae had written a small addendum on the last page, the only one with any space. 

 

BriBri,

Back then I thought my heart was going to explode with how much I loved you. I know a wedding day is supposed to be the happiest day of someone’s life but I really think it’s probably going to be the least happy one--compared to the rest of it. I thought I’d finally get this to you after all these years.

I love you.

Jae

 

Jae walks past immigration, cranes his neck to look past the crowd of people--families, lovers, friends--waiting for their loved ones. Everything goes black as hands come to cover his eyes. 

“Hey, Chicken Little.” The voice is soft but deep, fond--as always. 

Jae grins. “You’ll get fingerprints all over my glasses.” 

With that, Younghyun lets him go. Jae turns to face him--there he is: twinkling eyes, bright smile, cheeks plump from smiling.  _ How does he get better looking everytime I see him? _ Younghyun puts his arms around Jae’s waist. Jae puts his arms around Younghyun’s shoulders before leaning down to kiss him. His heart flutters in his chest as their lips meet.  _ I’ll never get used to that. _

As they pull apart, Younghyun picks up one of his bags, slips his free hand into Jae’s like clockwork, the most natural thing in the world.

“How was your flight?”

“It was okay. I was working on something for you.”

“A song?”

“Nope.”

“A video?”

“Nope.”

Younghyun wiggles his eyebrows. “Nudes?”

“No, pervert.”

"You say that like you've never done it before." 

"HAH. Well, not this time."

“What, then?”

Jae grins. “I found something I was supposed to give you a long, long time ago.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a brief announcement to say that I'm now [ opening for commissions](https://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com/commissions-open/), drop me a line if you're interested. :)
> 
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> 
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	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moments that only you gave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this fic is 20 chapters but the plot only goes until Chapter 18, Chapter 19 is the wedding and Chapter 20 is the honeymooooooooooooooon. So expect coming chapters to be shorter but more frequent. :)

Younghyun pushes the glass door of the Kims’ music store open. The chimes ring. Wonpil looks up from the piano, from the piece that he’s been studying--Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. The somber melody lingers a little in the room as he takes his foot off of the sustain pedal.

“Hey,” Younghyun says, handing Wonpil a small container of kimbap. “Thought you might want a snack. How’ve you been? When’s Baduk practice resume?”

“Thanks.” Wonpil smiles, puts the snacks down on the nearby table. “Well, that’s the thing I kind of need to talk to you about.”

Youngyhun’s eyebrows furrow in curiosity. “Hate to break it to you, Pillie, but I don’t know _anything_ about Baduk.”

Wonpil takes a deep breath. “I’m going to tell you a secret but you have to double pinky swear and cross your heart and hope to die that you’re not going to tell anyone until I tell someone because I think this might be the riskiest thing that I’ve ever done in my whole entire life.”

“Woah. Okay. Did you start a Crystal Meth lab?”

Wonpil smacks Younghyun on the forehead. “No, idiot. I’m giving up Baduk. Well, thinking about it.”

“What the fuck,” Younghyun says, eyes wide. “That’s….that’s like me giving up…”

“...Jae?” Wonpil asks quietly.

Younghyun shrugs, lets out a deep breath. “Yeah, kind of. I mean. You love it. You’ve always loved it.”

Wonpil smiles sadly. “Things change, I guess. I’ve never been like you guys, always dreaming of other places and other things, popstars and making it big, stuff like that. I mean obviously, I’ve been ambitious about Baduk and that’s gotten me pretty far but I’ve always been content to live here, to hang out with you guys, to give my dad someone to be proud of. But lately I’ve been feeling restless. I think I need to get away--”

“--Pil, is this about--”

“--a little bit. I guess in some way it’ll always be tied to that but it isn’t entirely about that, you know? It hurt me a lot, still stings a bit. But you can’t make someone love you if they don’t love you. I meant what I said about how it’s right--with you two, it’s right. It fits. I guess that whole thing kind of woke me up in a way--everyone’s growing up, everyone’s moving on and I don’t want to be stuck here all my life. Not that being here necessarily equates to being stuck but I’ve chased Baduk, caught it and kept it in a cage. Or it kept me in a cage. I need to find something else, somewhere else. I need to meet new people or I’ll go crazy.”

Younghyun frowns, thinks about how he and Wonpil have always been inverses of each other--him, sulky and prone to mood swings, Wonpil, cheerful and nonchalant, him always looking for a bigger dream, Wonpil content with the one that he’d got: and how now, things seem to be turning for them again, both of them like hands chasing each other on a clock. Now, Wonpil wants to be somewhere else, and all Younghyun wants is to stay.

“How can I help you, then?” Younghyun asks. He gestures to his bag. “I brought the camera.”

Wonpil grins. “I need to film a demo. I’m going to send it to the top contemporary pianists in Asia, hoping that someone will be willing to write me a recommendation to the Berklee College of Music. I need you to film me and write subtitles for my introductory message where I tell them about why I’m quitting my renowned career as a Baduk player to pursue a career in classical piano despite the fact that I’m already kind of overripe at the age of 18.”

“Jesus Christ,” Younghyun says. “And you think you’re not ambitious? You’re delusional.”

Wonpil shrugs. “Thank you. That’s the best compliment anyone’s ever given me.”

Younghyun grins, taking the camera out of its case. “Alright. So. You wanna start?”

 

 

“Don’t look at him,” Wonpil says, putting his hands up to block Younghyun’s line of sight as they stand in line by the door in the hallway leading to the ballroom, the deep blue carpet rolled out, white orchids hanging everywhere--deep purple tinged with bright yellows. Light pours in from the high glass windows. Younghyun cranes his neck, trying to catch a glimpse of Jae toward the front of the line. “That’s bad luck! You’re not supposed to see each other before the wedding.”

Younghyun smacks Wonpil’s forehead. “Jesus. It’s what, like, ten minutes? What difference will it make! I feel like I haven’t seen him in years.”

“It’s been all of twenty-four hours. Time is everything,” Wonpil says, taking Younghyun by the shoulders and making him face the wall. “Don’t you want to see that look on his face when he sees you coming toward him? That _holy crap there he is the man of my dreams_ look?”

“I see that look all the time,” Younghyun says, smug. “That’s the _Jae_ look. Copyrighted, Trademarked.”

“Well then,” Wonpil says, glancing back and catching a glimpse of Jae--resplendent in his white suit, smile wide, dark hair bringing out the warmth in his pale skin, eyes bright as he straightens his white coat. He licks his lips, nods to himself, grinning excitedly as Sungjin gives him and Dowoon last-minute instructions about timing and the pace at which to walk down the aisle. _He’s so handsome._ “You’ve been waiting all of what, like, ten years. You can wait ten more minutes.”

Younghyun sighs. “Fine.”   


 

“Fuck,” Younghyun says, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “I hate you. Why are you such a fucking sap.”

Music pours out from the nearby boombox--something of a relic that Youngyhun’s kept over the years. Dave Matthews’ soft, hoarse voice comes in over the guitar.

_Into your heart, I’ll beat again_   
_Sweet like candy to my soul_   
_Sweet you rock and sweet you roll_   
_Lost for you, I’m so lost for you_

Jae is sitting cross-legged on his couch, watching Younghyun’s eyes scan the page. Jae hides his hands in the oversized sleeves of his sweater, biting his lower lip as he grins wide, taking in the different emotions that cross Youngyhun’s face as he registers words upon words upon words Jae had written all those years ago. They’d had a busy day, had dinner with Younghyun’s parents right from the airport, had drinks with some of Younghyun’s work friends after--and now, they’re finally here, finally alone. The apartment is a little bare, most of Younghyun’s things already packed for the move back to Seoul, but for now it’s home.

“You know it’s a good thing you didn’t give this to me back then,” Younghyun says thoughtfully, tearing his gaze away from a page where Jae details his first impression of Younghyun when they were younger. The words “hot shit” and “annoying as fuck” and “really endearing which made it worse” leap from off the page.

“Yeah?” Jae says. “I kind of feel bad I didn’t. Younger me worked so hard on that. Imagine your eighteen-year-old chicken dragging that thing to McDonald’s with money he worked hard for just to write about your jeans or whatever stupid thing was on his mind.”

Younghyun closes the notebook, folding the corner to mark where he’d stopped. He inches closer so that his and Jae’s knees touch, so that his hand is on Jae’s forearm. With his free hand, he cups Jae’s cheek, leaning forward so that their noses kiss, brush against each other. When he speaks, his voice is soft, barely above a whisper.

“If you’d given me that thing back then, I never would’ve left.”

Jae smiles watching Younghyun’s eyes as they flutter shut, watching his lower lip tremble with emotion, watching this beautiful man, _his_ man, the person that he’s chosen to be with for all his life. “I can’t wait until we’re married, BriBri. I can’t fucking wait. I want to live with you, wake up to you, make you breakfast--condolences by the way because I suck at cooking--and annoy the fuck out of you for the rest of your life.”

The song changes, John Mayer’s sultry guitars coming out through the speakers.

_It’s not a silly little moment_   
_It’s not the storm before the calm_   
_This is the deep and dyin’ breath of_   
_This love we’ve been workin’ on_

“Me too.” Younghyun laughs before closing the distance between, them, pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. When they pull away, Younghyun keeps them pressed close together, his hand on the back of Jae’s nape. “You wanna hear something cheesy?”

Jae grins. “Always.”

Younghyun takes Jae’s hand, puts it over his chest. His heart is racing. “Everytime I kiss you, it’s like the first damn time.”

Jae’s hands tighten on the fabric of Younghyun’s sweater, pulling him back into a kiss, hot and wet, slick and full of anticipation. "I love you, you know."

Younghyun grins. "I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even when it wasn’t a big deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re getting so close to the end, my friends. Some smut in the next chapter.

Younghyun frowns down at his paper, knowing that he’s gotten everything right--well, except for a couple of doubtful items concerning gerunds. He sighs, checks his watch. 04:30 PM. Jae will be downstairs, waiting by now--Younghyun’s parents had arranged for him to get the day off of school to take the test. He hadn’t needed it, could just show up after class, but they wanted him to be able to do his best. 

_ When have I not?  _

They’d volunteered to pick him up too but Younghyun had said Jae would pick him up and that had seemed explanation enough for them to beg off. Younghyun feels a pang of pain, an ache of longing in his chest. Despite the fact that the past few weeks had flown by blissfully, the days filled with music and friendship and laughter and of course, love: Jae coloring the otherwise flaxen winter with his wisecracks, his jokes, warming Younghyun’s wind-bitten cheeks with his big, warm hands, soothing his chapped lips with his kisses, there was an underlying pain too. The more time they spent together, the closer they got to having to be apart. 

He glances at his watch. Three more minutes. The proctor gives a warning to check all answers, to see if they’d missed anything. Younghyun is a creature of habit, follows instructions and goes through the test one more time, looking at the stapled form for the certification should he pass. At the bottom of the page there is an option he’s left blank. 

English Name (Optional*):

Younghyun grins.  _ Oh what the hell _ . In romanized text, he writes the name down and it feels like a tribute, a helpless but meaningful reckoning. 

Brian. 

  
  


The envelope arrives the day before but Wonpil decides to let it simmer, is only now about to open it. He sighs, trying not to get his hopes up. It’s the last of the five responses he’s waiting on--one from Mitsuko Uchida. The other four he’d been more hopeful about, had thought that people more or less his age would understand or would be more ready to lend a listening ear to someone wanting to shift tracks, wanting to get in the game late, but that hadn’t been the case. He’d torn through the previous envelopes like a hungry dog tears into a slab of meat: eager, with the expectation of reward. 

The letters had been polite, sure, they’d even been kind, with recommendations for hobbyist programs and congratulations on his career as South Korea’s prized Baduk genius, but all of them had declined to give him the stepping stone that he needed to get to Boston. Two insisted he was probably too old to attempt something that ambitious, the other two had insisted  _ they _ were too young to be considered established players in their fields.  _ Bullshit. _

Wonpil sighs, turning the letter over and over in his hand. It feels heavy, laden with the weight of expectations and a fear of regret. What are the chances that a veteran would take up his cause? 

He glances at the calendar pinned to the opposite wall. Baduk practice is set to resume the next day. He takes a deep breath and slowly slips a finger through the sticky, amber-brown seal. He closes his eyes, heart hopeful but wary.  _ If it doesn’t work, at least you haven’t told Appa yet. At least you can always go back to Baduk.  _

Still not quite managing to convince himself, he decides to be courageous, rips the flap open. He takes a deep breath before finally glancing down to read. 

  
  


They take their time walking to the train, making their way home. They go the long way--skipping the underground walkways in favor of the longer, winding roads and pedestrian crossings, meandering and trying to keep as close to the river as they can. Jae likes the way his hand feels in Younghyun’s, the way that his scarf looks around Younghyun’s neck, the way that they keep in stride with each other, each knowing the point isn’t to get there, the point is to prolong the time they have together. 

Now, they walk by the river, the choice to get on the train station farthest from the test center unspoken but agreed upon. 

“So how’d the test go?” Jae asks, doing his best to smile “Bet you aced it.” 

Younghyun grins. “Well, you know I learned from the best. I’ll find out next week.” 

Jae grins, stops for a while, leaning on the cool railing to watch the river rush by, the banks still frosty, partly iced-over. The sun is setting, making everything glisten a slow, slicked burnt gold. 

“So. I know it’s still like, two-ish months off,” Jae says, picking a stray bit of fluff out of Younghyun’s hair. “But I want you to know I’m serious about us. I mean. Really. You know some people say that--but I mean it. I’m all in. And with that, I want to say that if you aren’t, that’s alright. I mean I understand moving to a new place must mean you would want to explore, it must mean that you would want to meet other people--”

“--okay, look,” Younghyun says, grabbing Jae by the hems of his hoodie where they frame his face. Jae blinks.  _ Cute.  _ “I know you’re trying to be sweet but if you think _ you’re _ all in, then you don’t seem to understand how all in I am. Because I am so in, I make a slam dunk look like the ball’s just spun around the rim a couple of times and bounced off--”

“--how’d you know the way to my heart was through basketball--” 

“--I’ve known you a long time,” Younghyun says, leaning his head on Jae’s shoulder. 

“So yeah. We’ll make it work,” Jae says, kissing the top of Younghyun’s head. “We should probably tell my parents sometime though, huh.” 

“Definitely--but um, maybe not yet.” Younghyun glances at Jae, a recurring thought resurfacing in his mind--something he’d been wanting to ask but kept putting off. “Uhhh so, I’ve sort of been meaning to ask you. Um. Okay. Uhhhh. How do I say this.” 

Jae looks at him, raises an eyebrow. “You okay, BriBri?” 

“Well,” Younghyun says. “Next week, my parents are going to be in Busan with my aunts for a couple of days, kind of as a last vacation for the oldies before we leave. I was supposed to go but you know, there’s school and I said I had an important thing. Which I guess I kind of do if I can say this properly.”

Jae grins, bites his lip mischievously. “Are you asking me what I think you’re asking me?” 

“What do you think I’m asking you?” Younghyun counters. 

“HAH,” Jae says. “No way you’re getting me to do this.  _ You  _ ask.” 

“You like seeing me squirm,” Younghyun says, rolling his eyes. 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Jae winks. “If you’re asking what you’re asking there’ll be more where that came from.” 

“Jesus.” Younghyun turns redder than the sunset, the curiosity piqued by all the kissing, the hands running under sweaters but not doing much else over the past month or so rising inside him. “So. Do you want to spend the night at my place when my parents are out? I mean. I figure. You know. It’ll be a while before we can again and I want to. Do what lovers do. Especially before I go.”

Jae turns to Younghyun, brushing the hair away from his eyes, kissing the reddened apples of his cheeks. “My shy boy.”

“So yes?"

“Hell yeah.” 

Younghyun grins, puts a hand on Jae’s chest. “Okay, then.” 

Jae smiles, unable to resist teasing Younghyun a little. “You sure you can handle all of this manliness, BriBri?” 

“HAH.” 

“I mean. You should just start calling me Tiger from here on in--”

“--okay, Chicken Tiger. Okay.” 

 

Wonpil sits stock-still at the Baduk table, still unable to fathom what he’s just read. He pulls the paper out, goes over it again--there is an English version and one translated into Hangul, all of it in type on formal-looking paper. 

Dearest Mr. Kim,

Thank you for your demo. Your playing is heartfelt but needs discipline, needs to be tapered down, trimmed, taught. It is very courageous of you to want to switch careers when you’ve already accomplished so much in your current profession. I have written a letter of recommendation to the school in question on your behalf--on the one condition that you train with me prior to the next term, for at least a month starting the first week of February. Let me know if you will be able to gather documents and funding by that time and I will see how I can help. 

I was deeply touched by your performance and your passion for music. I hope you pursue this with the same bullishness. You can trust it will be required of you as my apprentice and as a music student--and later on, I’m hoping, a world-class pianist. 

Best,

Mitsuko Uchida

Wonpil hears his dad closing up shop out front, the door locking, the chimes ringing against the door as metal turns, clicks. Wonpil takes a deep breath, gets to his feet and walks out into the living room as his dad steps in from the music shop. 

"Hey, Pillie. What do you want for dinner?"

“Appa, I have something to tell you." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve recently opened for [commissions](http://https://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com/commissions-open/)  
> if any of you are interested in that sorta thing. :) 
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	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The way you looked at me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyooooo. This chapter is going to be a bit longerrrr. Also, smut.

“I think the world might be ending,” Dowoon says, deadpan. “It’s the only thing that makes any sense.”

Wonpil grins, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. “Or, you know, people change. Their dreams change. We’re all allowed to grow up, even me.” 

Sungjin shakes his head in disbelief. “Yeah, I know, but it’s just a lot to process. And how does that work logistically? I mean. Is your dad going to be living alone? Is he going with you? And why is life unfair? Mitsuko Uchida--the kind of money I’d pay to get to study under her. Wow. Congrats, Pillie.” 

“Well,” Wonpil says carefully. “I leave at the end of next week which is super sudden. But when I talked to my dad, he actually seemed pretty cool with it. Um. Well, he said he’s been talking to your mom and she said that you guys might actually move in here--”

“--what?”

“He said they’d been seeing each other for a couple of months now--”

“--WHAT?” Sungjin asks, eyes wide. The thought turns itself like tide in his mind and he suddenly remembers his mom having dinner “dates with friends” more frequently as of late, thinks back to her allowing him to go out on New Year’s Eve. “Jesus.” 

“Yeap,” Dowoon says, picking a bit of fluff from the  carpet. “The world is definitely ending.” 

“--and he said that it would really help with your pre-med and eventual med school funds if your mom sold the house you guys are currently living in. And I know it’s going to take adjustment but I agree. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m happy he won’t be living alone.” 

Sungjin sighs. “I wish she’d told me. But well, wow. I guess I’m not the only one who’s been secretly dating someone. I think my mom and I definitely need to have some kind of talk.” 

Dowoon glances at him. “Sorry.”

Sungjin rolls his eyes. “It’s not your fault, brat. I’ll figure it out.” 

“She is going to  _ freak _ out. Probably more about it being me than about you being gay,” Dowoon points out. “She thinks I’m like evil incarnate, out to put a stain on your record with all my protesting. Well, that’s how the women got the vote. That’s how changes are made.”

“Yeah...maybe don’t tell her that,” Younghyun pipes up. “Dowoonie, there’s a thing called compromise. It’s an interesting concept. Something to do with politeness for a purpose, democracy, international relations, that kinda thing.” 

“Ha-ha."

Wonpil grins, glances at Jae who is sitting on the sofa, Younghyun’s head cradled in his lap. Jae frowns, measures his words carefully before speaking. 

“I’m really happy for you, Pil. But it makes me sad too.” Jae looks down at Younghyun who is watching him with wide eyes. Jae squishes Younghyun’s nose in reassurance. Wonpil looks away. “It feels like the end of an era, you know? I mean this room, this den--you. You’ve kind of always been the glue that’s held us together. It never mattered if Sungjin was somewhere trying to change the fate of the world via community service and free palace tours or if Dowoon was holding a placard at a protest in Gwanghwamun square or if Younghyun was at Mathletes practice or if I was in the middle of a book. If you left, we got together to make you a care package. When you got back, we got together to have tteokbokki. And I can’t help but feel like everyone is leaving--” 

“--that’s ridiculous,” Wonpil says. “The only thing this is the end of is my Baduk career. Friendship is metaphysical. Doesn’t matter if you’re at a concert, singing your heart out to a billion people or if Younghyun is at a big, corporate office trying to convince investors to put money toward the scientific calculator that’ll save the world or if Sungjin is doing double-bypass surgery on an eighty-year-old or if Dowoon is trying to bring the Capitalist world to its knees, we’ll all be holding onto a wish that all of the others are doing okay. We’ll always be thinking about what the others would do in every situation we encounter. Friendships are an internal metronome, we measure ourselves, our decisions against them. In our minds, our hearts, with every cause for celebration, we’ll be here: figuratively eating tteokbokki, dancing to stupid pop songs.” 

Jae nods, trying to put on a smile. “Okay. Yeah okay. You’re right. I’m sorry. You’re right.” 

“It’s like music. The song can end but it doesn’t matter because you carry it with you.”

Dowoon sniffles a little, buries his face in Sungjin’s shoulder. 

Sungjin rubs Dowoon’s back. 

“Fuck,” Younghyun says, dabbing at his eyes with the sleeves of his sweater. “Stop making me cry.” 

Wonpil grins. “I’ll miss you too.”

  
  


“Have you ever done this before?” Jae asks as they sit on Younghyun’s bed. It shifts under them. They’ve turned the lights on low, Younghyun draping a white shirt over his desk lamp for a kind of milky ambiance, the whole room luminous but in a soft, gentle way, the harshness of light blurred at the edges. They’ve laid the supplies out on the bedside table: a packet of condoms, a tube of lube.

Younghyun shakes his head. “I’ve done other stuff but I’ve never--um--”

“--gone all the way?” 

Younghyun nods. “Yeah.” 

“Okay,” Jae says, smiling softly, taking in the way that Younghyun’s eyebrows lilt upward when he’s nervous about something. “Follow my lead, alright?”

Younghyun nods. His voice is soft. “Okay.”

Jae grins, leans forward, kissing the space between Younghyun’s brows before moving lower, taking Younghyun’s face in his hands and kissing the apples of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the corners of his mouth, before pressing their lips together softly. He kisses Younghyun slow, with intent, sucking softly on his bottom lip, licking gently into his mouth, enjoying the way that Younghyun kisses him back messy, more frantic, breathless. Younghyun’s hands find themselves slipping under Jae’s sweater for the nth time in the time they’d been together, but this time he doesn’t stop--allows his fingers to up along the thin skin of Jae’s ribs, making their way to the soft flesh of his nipples. Younghyun feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as the skin of them puckers against his fingertips. 

Jae presses them closer, letting his tongue move lithe against the roof of Younghyun’s mouth before kissing him deep, hard, tongue against tongue. Slowly, he undoes the buttons on Younghyun’s flannel shirt, pausing between them to trace the soft skin of his chest. When the warm fabric gives way, Jae pulls away from the kiss to trace the shell of Younghyun’s ear with his tongue, takes the soft lobe between his teeth, nipping softly. He grins as Younghyun quivers against him, hands holding him closer, a soft moan escaping his lips. Jae kisses Younghyun’s neck, his collarbones, his shoulder, listening to his breathing hitch, his sighs grow heavier with want. He slips the fabric off of Younghyun slowly, peeling the shirt off of him and throwing it by the the foot of the bed. Younghyun tugs at Jae’s sweater. 

“No fair.”

Jae grins, takes his sweater off too. “Okay, okay.” 

They watch each other for a while. Younghyun watches Jae’s lithe figure emerge from his sweater--all the miles of milk-skin he’d only imagined. Jae takes in Younghyun’s sturdy, solid frame, chest and shoulders broad, gorgeous lilts of flesh resting on his hips, his arms. 

“You’re so hot--"

Younghyun interrupts Jae by kissing him again, this time all tongue and harried breath. Younghyun’s hands move lower, taking his chances. He rests his hand on Jae’s knee, feels him shake at the suddenness of it. There’s a feeling like falling at the pit of his stomach as Jae parts his legs, allowing him to explore. Younghyun moves the palm of his hand up along the length Jae’s inner thigh, pausing for a moment before moving higher--Jae’s hard in his sweatpants. Younghyun palms him through the fabric, enjoying the way that Jae’s voice cracks, the way that he pulls at Younghyun’s belt loops as if holding him closer will give him relief. 

“BriBri,” Jae croons into Younghyun’s ear. “That feels good.”

“Yeah?” Younghyun palms him closer, watching the way Jae bucks his hips slowly against his palm.  _ Fuck, fuck, fuck he loves it so much.  _

Jae nods, giving Younghyun a wicked grin before tugging at the button of Younghyun’s jeans with deft fingers. He slips his hand underneath the denim, the zipper sounding loud in the quiet room as it undoes itself. Younghyun is hard, wet, leaking against the fabric of his boxers. He lets out a gasp as Jae starts to stroke his cock, letting his thumb linger on the head just a moment too long before moving again. 

“Jae--oh fuck--oh my god--” Younghyun fumbles with the drawstring on Jae’s pants. 

Jae grins as he palms Younghyun closer, letting the wet fabric make the glide smoother, more unbearable. “You okay there, BriBri?”

The string comes loose. Younghyun slips his hand under Jae’s sweatpants--he isn’t wearing any underwear. His cock throbs wet, hard against Younghyun’s palm. “Jesus Christ, Jae.” 

Jae shrugs. “I’m an impatient person.”

Younghyun strokes Jae fully, letting his calloused thumb drag over the shaft, the head, the slit. Jae quivers, working not to lose his own pace, his rhythm on Younghyun. They go like that for a while, Jae pausing now and then to lick at Younghyun’s nipples, Younghyun in turn sucking soft bruises onto Jae’s neck, enjoying the way that he calls his name. 

“Can I try something?” Younghyun asks, breathless. 

“Mmm.”

Younghyun grins, slowly tugging at Jae’s sweatpants, pulling them off of Jae until he’s naked except for his mismatched Christmas socks. Younghyun pushes Jae softly onto the bed. Jae moves back to give Younghyun space. Younghyun climbs onto the bed after him, discarding his jeans and boxers too. Jae watches him--thick thighs, cock upright, gleaming in the light. Younghyun kisses Jae’s knee, makes his way up his inner thighs, tracing the length of it with his tongue. Jae bucks his hips as Younghyun starts to lick lightly, with just enough touch to tingle. When he gets to the innermost flesh, the softest part, Younghyun sucks hard. Jae lets out a loud moan, runs his fingers through Younghyun’s hair. 

“Fuck. Jesus--”

With that, Younghyun takes Jae’s cock into his mouth. Jae’s back arches, the sudden heat and friction catching him off-guard. Younghyun goes shallow at first, letting his tongue do most of the work, enjoying the way that Jae feels in his mouth--hard and pulsing and eager, pre-cum a little salty as he licks it away. Jae moans his name, hands grasping at the sheets as he thrashes under him. 

“Younghyun--oh  _ fuck _ \--BriBri--”

Younghyun grins, taking him as deep as he can, covering his teeth with his lips, bringing his tongue flush with the underside of Jae’s cock. Jae cries out, lifts his hips to meet Younghyun halfway, hands finding their grip in Younghyun’s hair as he holds him up gently, fucking into his mouth. 

When he feels himself on the cusp of release, all of it almost too much, he pulls out of Younghyun’s mouth, sits up to kiss Younghyun deep, full of love, a thank you. 

“Was it good?” Younghyun asks, eyes wide.

“Was it  _ good _ ?” Jae repeats. “Jesus Christ. It was so fucking good. Now let me play with you?”

Younghyun nods, heart racing. “What should I do?” 

Jae grins, reaches for the lube, the condoms, laying them beside him on the bed. “I think it might be easier if you’re on all fours?” 

Younghyun swallows, suddenly nervous, but complies. Jae squirts some lube onto his hands, warming up before he comes up to stand behind Younghyun, using one hand to slowly rub his cock until its slick.

“Oh fuck,” Younghyun says, already shaking, already in danger of having his knees buckle under him. “Oh my god.” 

“Relax,” Jae says softly into his ear. He starts to stroke him deeper, faster, enjoying the high, whinnying moans that escape Younghyun’s lips--a sound unexpected but a hundred percent him, his regular tenor dipped in the tides of pleasure. Jae goes faster, faster, and when Younghyun’s voice breaks itself on Jae’s name, Jae uses his free hand to rub lube around Younghyun’s rim, enjoying the way it puckers at his fingertips. He strokes softer, not letting Younghyun cum. 

“Jae--” Younghyun says, glancing down between his legs to see Jae’s hand, long fingers wrapped around his cock, moving over him like a force of nature. “--oh my fucking god--” 

With that, Jae catches Younghyun’s hole on the flutter, slipping a finger in slow. Younghyun cries out, tightening around Jae’s finger, the pleasure almost too much as Jae moves inside him, finger searching for that small bead of flesh. Jae lets out a soft chuckle as he finds it, lets his fingertip come flush with the softness of Younghyun’s prostate. Jae’s other hand keeps going, this time coming to focus on the head of Younghyun’s cock, letting it drag on the flesh between his thumb and index finger.

Younghyun drops to his forearms, shaking. “Fuck--Jae, fuck--if you keep going, I’ll cum--”

Jae pulls out slowly, releases Younghyun’s cock. He kisses Younghyun’s nape, his broad back. 

Younghyun is breathing hard, sweat dripping down his hair onto his forehead, his temples. He watches Jae watching him. 

“You okay?”

Younghyun grins albeit weakly. “Are you going to fuck me or what?”

Jae lets out a soft laugh. “Jeez okay, okay.”

He reaches for a condom, tearing at the soft wrapping with his teeth before rolling it on. He pushes the last of the lube out onto his hand, slicking himself up before lathering the rest of it onto Younghyun’s hole.

“Relax, okay, BriBri?”

Younghyun nods, pushing himself back up, trying to find composure. He takes a deep breath.

Jae is gentle, letting the tip of his cock push ever-so-slightly against Younghyun’s hole, letting him get used to it before pushing in softly, one hand resting on the small of Younghyun’s back.

“You’re okay,” Jae says as he pushes in deeper. “You’re okay. We’ll take it slow.”

Younghyun shakes, his thighs trembling from the pressure, the fullness. “Oh my god.”

Jae bottoms out. Younghyun cries out. Jae holds him still, rubbing his back, getting him used to it. “Does it hurt? Are you okay, BriBri?”

Younghyun takes a deep breath, moves a bit, getting used to having Jae inside him. “I’m okay.”

Jae thrusts slowly, feeling himself starting to tremble at how hot and wet and tight Younghyun is. Younghyun lets out a string of moans as Jae finds his prostate again, this time with his cock, bringing pleasure point to pleasure point flush. 

“Oh Younghyun--” Jae is breathless now, sweat dripping down his torso, the hollows of his hips. “--BriBri, baby, you feel so fucking good. Oh wow. Oh fuck. Fuck.” 

Younghyun lets out a sound between a grunt and a whimper--at one high-pitched and full of gravel. Jae curls himself closer around Younghyun, bracing himself with one leg against the bed as he goes faster, nipping at the lobe of Younghyun’s ear. For a moment, all there is is the sound of their moans, their mingled calling out to each other, the sound of wet skin against skin. And then Jae reaches his hand over to stroke Younghyun’s cock and Younghyun breaks, cumming hot and white into Jae’s hands, dripping onto the sheets.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck--Jae--fuck--oh my god--Jae--” 

Jae presses his lips against Younghyun’s, licking into his mouth as he thrusts deeper, faster, faster, chasing his own orgasm while letting Younghyun ride out his own. Younghyun leans back as Jae thrusts into him a final time, spilling himself into the condom before they collapse onto each other, bodies soft, sweaty, exhausted. 

Jae pulls out, pulling off the condom and tossing into the bin by the bed. Younghyun tugs at him, pulling him in by the forearm until Jae is lying on top of him, both of them nose-to-nose, staring into each other's eyes.

“I love you,” Jae says before leaning down to kiss Younghyun softly. He rests his head on Younghyun’s chest, half-closing his eyes as he listens to Younghyun’s pulse go like wild horses in a stampede. 

Younghyun strokes Jae’s hair, sleepy from the sex and the warmth and the way that Jae smells good, like clean soap and vanilla. “I love you too. I’m fucking crazy about you.” 

Jae grins, letting his eyes flutter shut. “I know.”

 

 

The next morning, they take their time. They sleep in, wake up a bit late, both of them tired and aching, a little sore from the night before. They kiss soft and slow, the late winter sun coming in bright through the window. They take a warm bath, taking their time soaping each other up, scrubbing at each others’ backs, thighs, cleaning off dried residue from the night before. After, Younghyun makes them breakfast, cooking eggs and toast and bacon, making them coffee--black for Jae, caramel-cream sweet for Younghyun. 

“Did I tell you I love you?” Jae asks, looking up from his coffee cup. 

“Yeah, like fifty-billion times.” Younghyun grins, takes a bite of bacon. 

“Okay.”

“I didn’t mean it like you should stop. I mean. Keep going.”

“I love you I love you I love you I love you--”

“--I love you too I love you too I love you too--”

Jae bursts into soft giggles, watching Younghyun from across the table with his floppy hair and oversized Metallica shirt. “--love is making us illiterate.” 

“Speak for yourself. I, personally, could wax poetic all day about being in love with Park Jaehyung, hottest man alive.” 

“My wordsmith.”

“He makes me feel like a better version of myself, he makes me feel like a man in a movie--”

“--a good one though, right? Like In The Mood For Love?”

“--a romantic comedy. One where they semi-hate each other and don’t know they’re in love until the end and then they can’t keep off of each other--”

“Ah,” Jae says, grinning before taking a bite of toast. “So you mean real life?”

 

 

“Jesus Christ,” Dowoon says as he puts two of the ugliest sweaters any of them have ever laid eyes on into the box. On top of them, he lays a couple of political satire cartoons cut out of the newspaper--his favorites. “The last fucking care package, I can’t believe it.” 

They’re standing outside the 7/11, the day before Wonpil’s set to leave. They’ve all cleared the afternoon--no YouTube recording, no Mathletes, no protests, no Student Council meetings. Just the afternoon and gifts and tteokbokki at the Kims’.

Sungjin sighs, putting in a couple of mixtapes and CDs of classical music performed by contemporary artists, a Bond album that he and Wonpil both really liked, along with a handmade card he’d filled to the brim with writing. 

“It shouldn’t feel like a funeral,” Younghyun says. “We’re helping him out. We’re wishing him well. It isn’t the end of care packages, it’s the beginning of Pillie’s career as a world-renowned pianist.” 

He puts in a ream of cigarettes--the menthol ones with the beads that they both really liked--wrapped in brown paper.

“Smoking is a filthy habit,” Dowoon says pointedly.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious.”

“I hate this,” Jae says, frowning as he puts in a comic--an old Archie that he’s “subtitled” for Wonpil, along with a long letter that he’d written over the past week. With that, he puts the lid over the box, takes the ribbon--blue, this time--and ties it in the biggest, messiest loop that his ability to tie it properly will allow. “I know it’s not goodbye but it feels like goodbye.” 

Younghyun puts an arm around Jae. “One helluva goodbye at least.” 

  
  


“And done,” Younghyun says, hitting the record button again. The red light stops blinking. Jae grins, puts the guitar aside. After the evening at Wonpil’s--all of them laughing, getting stupidly sentimental, finally getting Wonpil to learn Big Bang steps with them--they’d gotten extremely hyper and had decided to film a couple of covers at Younghyun’s.

“Was it good?” Jae asks as Younghyun transfers the files onto the computer, opens the editing software. 

“Yeah, pretty good. You’re getting really good at hitting those mid-tone notes. I noticed you used to have trouble transitioning from high to low a bit.” 

“Pitch,” Jae agrees.

Younghyun grins. “Pitch.” 

Jae watches as Younghyun drags the files from the desktop onto the software’s timeline. 

“So,” Younghyun says. “I figured I ought to show you how to edit this--”

Jae’s eyes widen in panic. “--no.” 

Younghyun looks at him, gaze gentle but stern. “I know it feels like good-bye but I’m just helping you acquire another skill, okay? I’ll always be here to edit for you even after we leave. But I want you to make sure you have all your bases covered, that’s all.”

Jae pouts. He can’t help himself, knows that Younghyun is right, knows that the editing is something he’ll eventually have to do himself. 

“Hey,” Younghyun tips Jae’s chin up toward him. “It’s nothing to be sad about, okay, Jae baby?”

Jae grins. “Baby, huh.” 

Younghyun’s cheeks turn red. “I thought it was cute.”

Jae scootches closer, resting his arm on Younghyun’s shoulder before he turns his attention to the screen. “So what’re you doing now?” 

“Basically cutting out the awkward intro part where you’re talking about tteokbokki and french fries and how they should have a miracle baby.” 

Jae snorts, watches as Younghyun drags the cursor to a time signature, hits snip, hits delete. Younghyun hits play and they watch the video back. 

On screen, Jae sings something about places he’ll remember--some having changed forever, not for better. 

“Jeez,” Jae says jokingly. “Isn’t there a way to make like, fire come out of the side and shades to come soaring onto my face or something?” 

Younghyun rolls his eyes. “I’m sure the minute there’s a way to do that, you’ll figure it out.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve recently opened for [commissions](http://https://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com/commissions-open/)  
> if any of you are interested in that sorta thing. :) 
> 
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)  
> [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)  
> [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was all beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh. Almost to the end, my loves.

The screen goes fuzzy, Younghyun’s pixelated face caught mid-wave, his mouth open as he’s about to finish saying  _ hello _ . Jae fiddles with the mouse, annoyed. Another beat--and Younghyun-on-screen is moving again.

“I fucking hate Skype,” Jae says, frowning. 

Younghyun smiles. Jae’s heart lurches in his chest. “I hate the distance but I love Skype ‘cause it means I get to talk to you. Or would you prefer letter-writing? Keep-my-photo-in-a-locket-my-love style?” 

“Right,” Jae sighs. “Right, of course. How are things over there? Did you finish with your midterms?”

“Yup,” Younghyun says, pulling the plate of bacon and rice closer to him, spooning a bite into his mouth. “Finally. I was able to sleep properly for the first time yesterday. It was crazy. How about you? You in your PJs yet? It’s getting late over there.” 

Jae raises his hands, revealing duck-patterned pajamas. “Yup. It’s not too late. Around eleven. Watching you eat is making me hungry though. I might cook some ramyun after this.”

“Do it now. Let’s eat together.” 

“Hrrrm. Nah. ‘Cause that’d mean I’d have to take my eyes off of you and they don’t feel like doing that right now.” 

Younghyun almost chokes on his rice. “Whatever happened to the tsundere I knew who only called me Brian out of spite?”

“Did we know someone like that?”

Younghyun grins. “I could’ve sworn we did.”

“I don’t remember.” Jae picks absentmindedly at the hems of his pajama top, pulling out loose threads. “So. I called because I’ve got some pretty good news.” 

“What’s that?” 

“I’ve finally saved up enough money to come see you. A record label wants to sign me and their head office is in New York. I figure I can stay a little longer to come see you.”

“Don’t play with my heart like that.”

Jae grins. “I’m not playin’.” 

  
  


Jae is bleary-eyed, nose red and running, shoulders unable to stop their shaking as he sobs into Younghyun’s hair. Their parents are a respectful way away, saying their own goodbyes to one another: talk about the children and time flying fast and of course,  _ of course _ they’ll all see each other again (they wouldn’t all be together again until Jae and Younghyun’s wedding). Dowoon and Sungjin have been jettisoned off to get refreshments for everyone while they wait for the time to properly say goodbye--for the Kangs to walk into immigration and toward the gate at which their plane boards. The coffee orders were listed down, money given: the Kangs are buying today. The Parks and Miss Park and Mr. Kim all protest, but to no avail. 

Jae’s put his glasses in his pocket, has let his vision run muddled and runny like watercolor gone wrong. He holds Younghyun tighter, takes in the softness of Younghyun’s hair against his cheek, tries to memorize the landscape of his back with his palms, that distinct Younghyun smell that is all his own. Younghyun is quieter, doing his best to keep it together, but tears are running down his cheeks too as he holds onto Jae as tightly as he can, savoring the way that he feels in his arms-- _ my yellowpostitman, my baby. _

“How could you guys do that for us?” Jae finally says, thinking back to that morning when the Kangs had called them up to the house for breakfast--and had given them the title and the keys to the house. He’d put off crying then, had only broken down once they’d gotten to the airport and had seen Younghyun dragging his suitcase behind him, the reality of the situation dawning on him: he’s leaving. “How? How could you?”

Younghyun frowns, strokes Jae’s hair. “Well, what else were we going to do with the house? It seemed like the only logical answer.” 

“I hate you,” Jae says softly. “Really, I hate you so much sometimes. You’re perfect. And you’re leaving and I feel like I’m going to die without you. I’m going to be miserable. So fucking miserable.”

Younghyun grins despite himself. He feels Jae blinking against him. “Drama Queen.”

Jae bites playfully at Younghyun’s shoulder. “Don’t tease me when I’m trying to wax melancholic about the love of my life moving across the world.” 

“We’ll get to see each other soon,” Younghyun says, not knowing yet that it’ll be almost two years before Jae is able to afford to fly to see him, not knowing that university will keep him from flying back to Seoul when he wants, that immigration constraints will keep him in Canada for at least a year. “You’ll come see me or I’ll come see you. It’s not the end of the world.”

“You’ve been my neighbor since I was what, like, thirteen? Who am I supposed to leech internet off of now? Who am I supposed to blame for playing loud, emo music and picking the wrong Big Bang bias?”

“Well, the internet is technically  _ yours _ now. And don’t worry because T.O.P. is always going to be the best Big Bang member ever.” 

“No,” Jae says, shaking his head, pressing his nose against Younghyun’s cheek, the hollow of his neck. “No, I don’t want the internet, I want you. T.O.P. can be the best if you say so.” 

“I know,” Younghyun says, looking up and kissing the corner of Jae’s mouth softly. “Me too, baby. Me too. I love you.”

Jae’s bottom lip quivers as a fresh slew of tears brim over his eyes, rolling onto his cheeks. “I love you so much.” 

“Hey, lovebirds,” Sungjin interrupts softly, handing them two iced coffees. “The drinks are here. And uh, Younghyun--your dad says that you should get ready. Last five minutes.” 

They take the drinks, Jae hiccuping as he sips on his iced Americano. Slowly, softly, Younghyun wipes Jae’s tears with the sleeve of his coat. He reaches into the pocket of Jae’s jacket for his glasses, wiping them off with his shirt before putting them on Jae, resting them gently on the bridge of his nose. The clear image of Younghyun swims into vision and Jae feels like he’s going to start sobbing again.  _ He’s so beautiful. _

“You’ll get sick if you keep crying like that, Mr. Allergies.” 

Jae blinks, trying his best not to cry. “Look who’s talking. Your eyes are all red.” 

The call for their flight comes on over the loudspeakers. Younghyun sighs, takes Jae’s hand in his as their group starts to walk toward the immigration gate. Mr. and Mrs. Kang motion at Younghyun to join them by the line.

“I guess this is it, then.” 

Jae nods, pulls Younghyun in by the lapels of his coat for one last, lingering kiss. When they pull apart, both of them are glassy-eyed again. “Go.”

“I’ll instant message you when I get there.”

“Bye,” Jae says, wanting at the last minute to say  _ I love you _ or  _ stay _ or both, but decides to save it for when they’re together again. “Take care, okay?”

Younghyun nods before he squeezes Jae’s hand one last time, goes to join his parents at the line. Jae stands stock-still until they walk through immigration and disappear from his line of sight. 

  
  


Jae laughs to himself, glancing at the door knob again just to make sure that he’s locked it. He feels ridiculous. On screen, Younghyun is grinning at him, excited. 

“Jesus, I can’t believe we’re doing this.” 

Younghyun shrugs. “We’re adults. We have needs.” 

Jae feels his stomach pitch with excitement as on screen, Younghyun undoes the buttons on his polo shirt, revealing that expanse of skin Jae’s missed so much over the past few months. “I’ll say.” 

“So,” Younghyun says, lowering his voice. “You going to let that sweater hang over your shoulder the way I like or--?”

Jae grins, clicking his tongue. Slowly, he moves the loose collar of his sweater ever-so-slightly, exposing the line of his collarbones, stopping just short of his shoulder. “Not so fast, bad boy.” 

  
  


When they get home, the main house is still empty. Jae lets himself in while everyone else is fussing downstairs, talking about lunch and moving upstairs and Dowoon and Jae having to get ready for college over the summer. He touches everything--the same but different, the same house he’d known for the past few years but without Younghyun’s personal touches: none of his weird band shirts lying around, no CDs with cracked covers sitting atop the stereo, no stray earrings littering the small bowl designated for keys.

He walks into Younghyun’s room, the door creaking as it opens. He sighs, suddenly hit with the smell of him and his absence--his pillows, his beddings are there, but his clothes, his guitar, his shoes, his stupid CD collection he’s always been so proud of, aren’t. Jae lies on the bed, pressing his nose to the pillows, remembering their nights and mornings spent curled around each other, longing for the weight of Younghyun against him, for his smile, his kisses, his laughter, his dumb jokes, his eyes looking at Jae like he’s the only person in the world. 

Jae falls asleep, the simultaneous comfort and longing finally sinking in. 

  
  


Younghyun is at the airport hours early. Jae’s flight arrives at ten in the morning but he’s there by seven, drinking himself into a coffee high. He buys flowers and all of the stupid comics he can find at the nearby bookstore. He checks his reflection in every surface that he can find--mirrors, windows, reflective suitcases carried by strangers on the walkalator. He’s dressed up for today, worn a deep blue sweater that he knows brings out his eyes, has parted his hair to the side, has put his new cross-earring in because one of his colleagues said it looked sexy. He feels his stomach turning as he thinks of finally seeing Jae again--in more than 480p, the whole high-definition obnoxious, hyper, crazy resolution of him, his to hold and joke with and kiss. 

He glances up, grinning as the baggage counter for Jae’s flight finally turns green. He cranes his neck, shaking his hair into his eyes in what he hopes is a sexy way. He fixes the flowers, adjusts the bow on the gift store paper bag. He wonders what Jae is wearing--red sweater, maybe, he thinks, or oversized baby pink hoodie. 

Strangers teem past him--and when he finally sees Jae his breath is taken away. His dark hair is parted to the side, styled in an undercut with a streak of blue running through it. He’s wearing dark studs in his ears, has on a black coat and white button down tucked into dark, ripped jeans. 

Younghyun can’t stop smiling, thinks he probably looks like an idiot but doesn’t really care.

When Jae spots him, he starts running--and before Younghyun knows it, he’s running too, almost tripping over his own feet in an effort to close the gap between them. When they’re finally standing less than an inch apart, they take a moment to watch each other--eyes taking in the things that have changed (Jae has a lift, a certain confidence to him that hadn’t been there before, Younghyun has filled out, is broader in the chest, the arms, grins more easily than he had almost two years before) and the things that have stayed the same (beautiful, they both think--just so fucking beautiful). 

“Hey--” Younghyun starts, but Jae drops his bags, throws his arms around him and pulls him into a kiss, hands gripping his scarf. 

It’s soft and warm, full of both desire and comfort, intimacy and longing. When they pull away, Jae is grinning.  _He's here, he's finally here._

“--hey yourself.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Commissions Info](http://https://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com/commissions-open/)   
>  [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)   
>  [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)   
>  [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before I went to bed, as soon as I opened my eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do weddings make you emotional? If so, get ready to cry in the next one.

It isn’t as if Jae hasn’t thought about it before--there’d been numerous occasions when it crossed his mind: there was that one time that they spent their anniversary at the Ritz and Younghyun had bought underwear with garters and hand-straps that Jae could hold onto so that they did that ripple-y thing with Younghyun’s thighs that he liked so much, after which they’d spent the aftermath of lovemaking soaking in the tub, Younghyun shampooing his hair as they sang each other old love songs by candlelight, there was also that time that Younghyun had a business meeting in Tokyo where Jae was recording his album and he’d shown up at the studio with a picnic basket and some wine, there was that time when Jae’s mom had gotten sick and Jae was on tour and Younghyun had called the doctors at the hospital collect to make sure that everything was okay, had sent over a care package via a personal shopper. But the time that sticks, the time that he recalls  _ really  _ making up his mind is when Sungjin and Dowoon decide to elope. 

The drunken call comes in at 07:00 PM Seoul time--05:00 AM Toronto time. Sungjin and Dowoon are in Greece for a friend’s wedding, obviously drunk on too much Sangria. Jae is in the studio finishing off a track that’s set to come out during the summer: a banger he’s been working on for months, one he hopes will do well on the charts. 

His phone is ringing, almost vibrating off the table as he walks out of the recording booth. 

“Hello?”

“HYUNGIEEEEE THE BESST HYUNG IN THE WORLD!”

“Dowoon? 

“No one else calls you hyung--”

“--hello?” Younghyun’s groggy voice comes over the line. 

“BriBri? Baby, it’s early--wait, why are you three-way calling, Dowoonie?”

There is a clatter, a moving around of objects and Sungjin’s voice comes booming through the line. 

“Guess what we just did?” His husky voice roars over the phone, a bit too loud.

“Jesus Christ. Drunkards, let me get some sleep,” Younghyun says. 

“We booked you two a flight to Greece!” 

“Oh my god,” Jae says, not taking it seriously, chuckling to himself. “You two are the fucking dumbest drunks, I swear to god. Drink a lot of water before you head to bed. You two will definitely be hungover in the morning.”

“We’re going to elope,” Dowoon says, his voice uncharacteristically giddy, cracking on the last syllable like a kid yelling about cotton candy. 

“What!” Younghyun snaps, voice sapped of all languidness. “Are you crazy?”

Sungjin lets out a loud laugh that reminds Jae of a madman at  a carnival. “We’ve booked the chapel for tomorrow at sunset! We bought you both two-way tickets to Santorini! We’re getting hitched!” 

“Eomma is going to kill you,” Jae says. “Tell Dowoonie that. Also, Sungjin, your mom will never forgive you. She got over the Dowoon thing but she’ll never get over the fact that her baby didn’t invite her to his wedding.” 

“Pillie will kill you too,” Younghyun pipes up. “You’re technically his step-brother aren’t you?”

“Ugh but we’re so tired of  _ waiting _ ,” Sungjin says. “We waited for Dowoonie to be the right age to f--”

“--okay, we don’t need to know that--” 

“--and then we waited until we graduated from college to tell our parents just in case there were violent reactions. And  _ then  _ we waited until we graduated from med and law school to live together so we wouldn’t get distracted. I AM SICK AND TIRED OF--”

“--WAITING!” Dowoon yells at the top of his lungs. “Sungjin made me an engagement ring out of this...cherry stem--”

“--you know what else I can do with a cherry stem--” Sungjin laughs. Dowoon makes a high-pitched sound. Sungjin laughs.

On both ends of the line, Younghyun and Jae cringe.

“--are you two trying to get us to fly to Greece on a moment’s notice to condone your elopement?” Younghyun asks pointedly. 

Jae sighs. “Don’t get mad at them, BriBri. They’re just being silly--”

There is the sound of keys typing, a mouse clicking.

“--Jae, baby, they really bought the tickets--” Younghyun’s voice lilts in panic.

“-- _ what _ !”

“I just checked my e-mail. And they bought the tickets.”

“HAH,” Sungjin says. “Fuckin’ told you.” 

“So you two  _ are _ actually asking us to fly out as if we don’t have schedules and--”

“--hyungie,” Dowoon says, voice suddenly serious. “We’re asking you to witness our wedding because you mean the world to us and we mean the world to each other. We know what we’re doing. Please.”

Jae and Younghyun sigh at the same time, both knowing that in a few hours they’ll be at airports on the opposite ends of the world, heading for the same destination, schedules be damned. 

  
  


The ocean is a deep, devastating blue--so blue that Jae thinks it makes every other blue thing he’s ever seen seem like a cheap imitation. The chapel sits on a hill, the white balcony overlooking the water. The religious aspect is more of a formality, the wedding being carried out by a judge--a guy Sungjin and Dowoon had met at their friend’s reception the drunken evening before.

Both of them have dressed up: Sungjin dapper in a powder-blue button down tucked into crisp jeans, his hair slicked back, and Dowoon looking fresh in a pale green cotton number with a high collar worn loose over gray chinos. Jae and Younghyun flank them, waiting for the short ceremony to begin. Jae watches Younghyun: he looks serene, happy, his smile wide as the judge says the opening words. 

Jae thinks of the day they’d had--both of them busy and running around despite touching down in the wee hours of the morning, exhausted and jet-lagged, sleep deprived (Jae had caught Younghyun napping on the landing of the hotel stairwell while waiting for Jae to put his things in their room). Dowoon had joked around about being okay with McDonald’s for the reception which had driven Sungjin crazy. He wanted a caterer, wanted their first meal as a married couple to be somewhere nice. 

The whole day had been Jae and Younghyun driving around on a small, rented scooter, stopping at different restaurants to find a place that was both available and up to Sungjin’s standards. In the end, Jae had found a small, cozy restaurant near their hotel--local food, beautiful flowers, a view of the ocean, and most importantly: available for booking on short notice. They’d paid the fee, Brian arranging for the music, choosing the courses and the wine, Jae picking out the decor from what they had available. Right after that, they’d gone to the jewelers to get the things that  _ of course _ the married couple (currently in their hotel room, the DND sign held up--nothing for them but a text saying  _ meet ya guys t the chpl _ from Dowoon) had forgotten: the rings. 

They’d done the guesswork at the shop, Jae estimating Dowoon’s ring size by trying one of the bands on, Younghyun doing the same for Sungjin. Jae felt a kind of tingle go down his spine as the ring jammed on Younghyun’s finger and he’d helped remove it--the gesture of their hands locking, of the silver sliding on flesh as it finally came loose evoking something in him. He liked the way that their hands looked--with the matching bands on.

_ We work well together. We’ve been through so much together.  _

The thought doesn’t dawn on him all at once--it’s less like an avalanche, more like dust slowly settling or the sands of time collecting at the bottom of the hourglass: he realizes couldn’t have gotten through the day sleepless and hungry with anyone else and still come out of it smiling. Scratch that--he couldn’t have gone through the past nine or so years with anyone else and still come out of it absolutely, incredibly, irrevocably in love. When Younghyun holds his hand, when he kisses him, when he does simple things like get him a cup of coffee or turn the reading lamp on for him when he’s slumped over a novel at his desk, Jae still gets that warm feeling in his chest, that flip in his belly. As the judge starts to ask Sungjin and Dowoon the questions millions of others have answered before them, the idea starts to take root in Jae’s mind. 

To have and to hold? For better and for worse? In sickness and in health? For richer and for poorer? 

_ We’ve already done all that, all that’s left is that final step.  _

By the time Sungjin and Dowoon are kissing too long for comfort in front of the altar, having been proclaimed one union in the eyes of the state, Jae is plotting the date, the time, the how and the when of the proposal. After they’ve had their small dinner full of fond conversation and banter, after Sungjin has yelled at the maitre’d (and de facto caterer) for forgetting to keep the wine in a bucket of ice, after Dowoon has averted Sungjin’s anger by calling him his Hubby Bear (Jae and Younghyun made puking noises, pretending to hurl into their bowls of soup), after the couple has had their first (and second and third and fourth and fifth) dance, after they all get a little too drunk, after he and Younghyun retire to the bedroom and make love with the windows open, hearing the waves crash against the shore like their bodies onto each other, Jae stays up, turns his computer on, and starts looking for the perfect ring.

  
  


It takes pulling a couple of strings--probably the most strings that Jae has ever pulled in his career as a professional musician: favors called in, different e-mails sent, deals made (TV guest appearances in exchange for email introductions). In short, he knows a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy who knows Big Bang’s manager. He also knows a guy who happens to be Younghyun’s assistant: one Mr. Joshua Hong, responsible for getting Mr. Brian Kang of Kang Industries anywhere and everywhere. It’s difficult running the chain of computer distributors but with Joshua’s help, Younghyun manages to be everywhere he needs to be when he needs to be, naps accounted for. 

Jae tells Joshua to tell Younghyun he has a meeting with a client in Seoul, tells him that the concert ticket is complimentary--the company owns the LCD screens used at the venues. Joshua hesitates but agrees once Jae tells him what’s on the line.  _ So is the boss finally going to lighten up?  _

I gotchu, fam, Jae had said over e-mail.

But today, he’s a little less confident, a little more hesitant with the day finally being here, all of it suddenly so close, so near. He’s standing in the crowd of the VIPs’ VIP section, a little bit worried.  _ Where is he _ ?  _ Did Joshua crack?  _ He and Younghyun had had lunch earlier that day, Younghyun annoyed that he and Jae couldn’t go to the concert together, Jae trying to reassure him it didn’t mesh with his recording schedule anyway. Then Younghyun had sped off to an appointment with another potential investor--and Jae had gone home to dress up, to get ready, to practice what he was going to say. After an hour or two of talking to himself in the mirror, trying to practice saying what he wants to say without crying, here he is, dressed up in a suit and tie, the ring in his pocket, hoping like hell Younghyun didn’t decide to ditch last minute. 

  
  


Younghyun decides to ditch last-minute, not really wanting to go and see Big Bang without Jae.  _ What’s the point in that? _ Instead, he goes to the deli and buys their favorite cheese before heading over to the liquor store and getting them a nice bottle of wine. Netflix and chill with his gorgeous boyfriend--that definitely sounds better than standing alone in a stadium filled with other people. He’s rarely in Seoul, moreso at a time where the situation allows him to make the choice of going to a concert or surprising Jae at the studio. Of course, he picks the latter.

He’s halfway to Jae’s studio when his phone starts ringing off the hook--it’s his ringtone for urgent business. It sends a shiver of panic down his spine.  _ Were the deliveries made? Did I mix up the dates for the meeting?  _ He slides a finger across the screen before slipping on his bluetooth earpiece.

“Hello?”

“Boss.”

“Yes, Josh--what’s up? Did we make all the shipments?”

“Yes but we kind of have a problem. Are you at the concert? 

“Yeah, I decided to ditch--”

“-- _ what _ ?”

“Look, kid, let me tell you something about running your own business--sure, do everything that you can to make it grow but there are two things in life more important than business: learning and love. When you love someone--”

“--with all due respect, Bri, you have to go. The client has the other ticket and wanted to meet you there. I’m pretty sure this was in the briefing that you didn’t read. He’s going to be pretty upset if you don’t go--he says the LCDs need to be experienced firsthand.”

“Like how upset? Not give us a discount upset or like--kill the investment upset?” Younghyun sighs, glancing longingly at the bottle of wine and thinking of the cute way that the corners of Jae’s eyes crinkle up when he laughs, the way his cheeks get red when he’s had a bit too much to drink, the way he leans back against Younghyun when they watch scary movies. 

“Kill the investment upset,” Joshua says. “For freaking sure. And like, ruin your reputation to other manufacturers upset.” 

Younghyun sighs, gearing up to make a U-Turn. “Fine.” 

  
  


Jae feels like an idiot--the lights have gone out, the crowd cheering, the entire stadium a sea of lights. On stage, Seungri goes into the verse of Let’s Not Fall In Love. Jae sighs in defeat, wondering what Younghyun’s decided to go and do instead.  _ Probably go home and fall asleep at the kitchen table while waiting for pizza.  _ He glances up on stage, takes in the big LCD screens and the flashy lights, wondering how he’ll explain that actually, they could just go on with the concert because the big proposal wouldn’t be happening.  _ How do you un-pull strings? Is that a thing?  _

“Jae?”

Jae turns around and there he is--Younghyun, standing beside him, a little out of breath, flustered, his gaze searching for someone. “Heyyyyy, BriBri. You’re lateeee.”

Younghyun’s eyebrows knit together. “Wait, sorry, baby. What are you doing here? Also, have you seen anyone around here looking for me?”

_ Think fast, think fast.  _ “Right well after you left, Joshua called me and said that the guy had an emergency and was giving me his ticket. So it’s me. I’m the one looking for you I guess.”

“That’s weird. I was just on the phone with him and--” 

“--were you going to  _ ditch _ your client?”

Younghyun grins at that. “You know I actually ditched and bought wine and cheese so we could vegetate on the couch instead?”

“Oh yeah?” Jae asks, grinning, slipping his hand into Younghyun’s. “That sounds really nice right now. Later? We could watch something scary and I could hold onto you for dear life--” 

“--as is what always happens,” Younghyun chides. 

“Any excuse to sit in your lap, really,” Jae jokes, wiggling his eyebrows.

Younghyun laughs, pulling Jae closer to him by the waist. “Well, I mean, you don’t really need an excuse. You could just do it.”

Jae nuzzles Younghyun’s ear. “It’s the first thing I’ll do when we get home.” 

“Better be.” 

On stage, they go into a remix of Haru Haru. Jae’s stomach feels like he’s on a rollercoaster right before the drop. It’s almost time. Jae’s sweaty under his suit. The music stops. GDragon picks up the mic.  _ Oh god oh god oh god.  _ Jae watches Younghyun’s face--eyes bright as he looks up at the stage, wondering what’s going on, getting ready for show shenanigans. 

He leans over, whispers to Jae. “They never let T.O.P. do the talking.” 

Jae rolls his eyes. “Shhhhhh. The hottest man ever is going to speak.” 

Younghyun grimaces. “He’s not  _ you _ .” 

Jae grins.  _ You’ll see.  _

“So,” GDragon says into the mic, grinning. “We don’t usually do these kinds of things but a friend of ours is in the audience and he called in a favor. We believe in supporting love--even if we might sing about not being in love or not wanting to fall in love. So. We thought that we’d give a friend a shot at asking the love of his life to marry him.” 

“Oh wow,” Younghyun says. “They’re so good to their friends.”

“Ace.”

The lights go dark. The crowd oohs and ahhs as a video starts to play on the LCD screen. Jae’s heart is in his throat. He takes a deep breath. On the screen, he hears himself start to talk, saying hi to Younghyun and everyone while waving with a big, uncertain smile on his face. The crowd cheers, a good number of them recognizing him from YouTube and his music videos. 

He doesn’t dare sneak a look at at Younghyun but he feels his grip tighten.

“So, hey. Thanks to my pals who knew my pals who knew my other pals who knew BigBang. This group means a lot to me and the love of my life so. Yeah. Our first date was at a BigBang concert and I didn’t think there was anywhere else that I could do this but here. So. 

“Younghyun, we’ve been seeing each other for nine years now--and have known each other, maybe loved each other, for even longer than that. We’ve endured distance and criticism, poverty and the struggles of self-esteem and nurturing our careers. We’ve taken care of our parents, our friends, our siblings--err, well, cousin. It hasn’t been easy and a lot of the time I think about how quickly the years seem to have gone by. They say that time flies when you’re having fun and that’s what I love the most about you: no matter how mundane or difficult or pressure-filled the situation, you find a way to make it better. You always find a way to turn things around. In case I don’t say it enough, I want you to know that your optimism and your laughter and compassion light up my life. When Sungjin and Dowoon got married, for example, we were so sleep-deprived and hangry, but we pulled through. And you know how crazy that was so I figured, we make a pretty good team. Almost a decade is probably enough for me to say that I want you in my life forever. I want to bask in the warmth and sunlight of your presence as long as I’m alive. When we were younger, we used to fight over our BigBang biases--I’d always say GD was the best rapper but you always insisted on T.O.P.--”

On stage, GDragon laughs, nudges T.O.P. 

“--and maybe we’ll never come to a full agreement, but I’d really like a chance to be able to argue with you about that and a ton of other stupid things for as long as we both shall live. I guess what I’m trying to ask you is: will you marry me? Uh. Okay. Cut--you can look at real me now.” 

The screen goes dark, the crowd goes wild as ambient lighting falls on them. Jae gets down on one knee, lets go of Younghyun’s hand to pull a dark velvet box out of his pocket. He opens it, revealing a plain silver band with a small Turquoise stone set in--as soon as Jae had seen it, he’d known it’d be perfect. Turquoise for December, Younghyun’s birth month, blue like the skies and oceans they’d crossed for each other. 

“So what’d you say, BriBri?”

Jae looks up at Younghyun, who has tears running down his cheeks but is smiling the widest that Jae’s ever seen. “Jesus Christ. You let me talk about Netflix and chill when you had  _ all of that _ planned out? What the fuck, Jae baby.”

Jae grins. “You’re not the only with a few tricks up his sleeve, Mr. Buys-You-A-Fender-Out-Of-The-Blue.”

Younghyun smiles. “I love you, Jae.”

Jae grins nervously. His lips are trembling. “I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Yes. Affirmative. Marry me right fucking now,” Younghyun says, pulling Jae to his feet. 

Jae grins, taking the ring and slipping it onto Younghyun’s ring finger before Younghyun pulls him into a soft kiss. The crowd cheers. 

“Marry me now,” Younghyun says again, kissing Jae’s cheeks, his nose. “Now now now now now.”

Jae laughs. “Slow down, bad boy. We’ve got time. All the damn time in the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WEDDING CHAPTER TOMORROW EVENING!
> 
> [Commissions Information](http://https://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com/commissions-open/)   
>  [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)   
>  [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)   
>  [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything, everything. To me, everything about you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue up next week or late this week. Hopefully!!!
> 
> “Come Home” by One Republic piano instrumental: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7G-rtDENsfo
> 
> (It was also covered by Jae back in ye ole yellowpostitman days.)

The hotel ballroom is high-ceilinged, the entire place dressed up in silks and satins of pale silver and the lightest turquoise, the slightest hint of blue running through it. The light backdrop contrasts with the bright azure mystique orchids which are strung between the rows of seats, the arrangements which hang down in curlicues from the ceiling at staggered heights. The sunlight from outside comes shining into the room through the big glass windows, filling the entire place with light.

“You okay, hyung?” Dowoon asks, nudging Jae.

“Sure. Yeah sure. I’m fine. I’ll be okay.” Jae takes a deep breath, tugging on the hems of his suit, straightening up as the music starts, the first piano strains of _Come Home_ seeping into the room.

The walk down the aisle begins: rings, flowers, Jae’s parents, Dowoon, and then finally--Jae takes that step forward. He focuses on breathing, on trying not to cry (not yet, anyway) as he nears the altar, suddenly aware that all of his friends and family are there watching them, are gathered together to celebrate him and Younghyun and their well-fought-for love. Jae sings along to the song in his mind.

 _Hello world, hope you're listening_  
_Forgive me if I’m young or speaking out of turn_  
_But there’s someone I've been missing_  
_And I think that they could be the better half of me_

He takes his place toward the front of the room, turning to face the door and catching Sungjin’s eye from the front row. Sungjin grins, shoots him a thumbs up. Jae feels the tears rush to his eyes, his vision blurring. _Christ let me live through this._ He takes a deep breath, blinks the tears back.

Younghyun’s parents make their way down the aisle, both of them shaking Jae’s hands before they make their way to their seats. Kind, familiar faces, people he’s looked up to, has known all his life.

_They’re in the wrong place tryin' to make it right  
But I'm tired of justifying _

The music swells and Wonpil walks down the aisle, grinning. His dark hair is swept back, suit pressed and crisp. He winks at Jae, shoots him a thumbs up, mouths _congratulations_. Jae feels his heart lurch at the sight of his old friend’s handsome face, and it hits him: he’s here despite the pain and the time and the distance and their complicated history, their friendship overcoming everything in the end. _Friendship is a metronome against which you measure yourself._ The old lines come flooding back to him. Jae feels his heart swell with pride, knowing that if Wonpil is his friend, it means he’s done well. _You’ve worked hard._ He knows his eyes are glassy, his lips probably trembling. Wonpil takes his place across from Dowoon by the altar. Jae wonders what he’s done to deserve all of this: how many men are blessed with so much love, with such amazing people? With a life that Jae reckons carries enough light to power a thousand galaxies?

The chorus hits and when Jae turns to see Younghyun, smiling and resplendent in his white suit, his hair dyed a fresh silver and parted to the side, silver earrings gleaming in the light, it’s just like the first time they’d seen each other again in Toronto all those years ago--except better, much better--the tears brim over his eyes and spill onto his cheeks as he’s overwhelmed with love and happiness and gratitude. _Okay, calm down. We’re doing this, we’re really doing this._ Dowoon hands him a handkerchief. Jae dabs at his eyes but refuses to blink, not wanting to miss a single shining moment.

 _So I say to you, come home, come home_  
_Cause I’ve been waiting for ya for so long, for so long_  
_And right now there's a war between the vanities_  
_But all I see is you and me_  
_And the fight for you is all I've ever known_  
_So come home_

Younghyun makes it halfway down the aisle before he’s crying too, doing his best to smile but failing, his breathing harried, his nose red and cheeks tear-stained before he gets to the altar. By the time he joins Jae, slipping his hand into his, they’re both a crying mess: shoulders shaking, sniffling as the judge says the opening remarks.

“Crybaby,” Younghyun whispers, squeezing Jae’s hand.

“Hah,” Jae says, voice hoarse from holding back his sobs. “Look who’s talking.”

The ceremony is simple but solemn, Jae having insisted on the classic passage about love--patient, kind, all of that jazz--before their vows. The judge makes a joke about someone having to hand out the tissue because the grooms are definitely going to be bawling at the end of it. Jae grins at Younghyun, wondering whether it was a good idea that they’d decided to write their own vows as he feels the tears well up again. _Well, he’s not wrong._

Jae goes first, struggling to read the stuff he’s written down through the blur of already-gathering tears. He takes a deep breath before he starts to speak. A hush comes over the entire room. Jae’s voice is soft, hoarse.

“Okay, so. These were supposed to be concise and short and I really thought that was the point of writing your own vows--so I have to apologize in advance if mine are long and cheesy but I want you to know exactly what you’re getting yourself into.”

Younghyun rolls his eyes but smiles fondly. “Blabbermouth.”

“Welcome to the rest of your life,” Jae continues, smiling back. “I wasn’t the happiest teenager. Anyone who’s in this room will know that. It wasn’t easy moving to Korea from the US--adjusting to a new language, to a new culture, trying to find friends. When I was in high school, I was really convinced that I wasn’t going to amount to anything: I mean, really, everyone hated me. You know how some kids are nerdy but kind of endearing because they study hard and get good grades? Yeah, that wasn’t me. Even my own parents were a bit worried about college and stuff and it just felt hopeless. I didn’t really want to do anything except escape by reading or watching cartoons. And Younghyun, you’ve always kind of been the opposite of me in that regard. You’ve always been smart and driven and known what you wanted. You never let anyone or anything stop you from reaching your goals. Your work ethic--”

Younghyun clears his throat, pulls himself together enough to make a joke. “--so romantic. You’re marrying me for my work ethic.”

“Let me finish, will you?” Jae laughs. “Your work ethic has taught me something that’s more precious than anything that money can buy: it’s taught me to believe in myself. At a time when I really didn’t have anything else, you believed in me. You taught me that people would listen to my voice if I spoke loud enough when even I didn’t know I had a voice. I wasn’t really living until you taught me how, in that sense. So I mean it when I say that what I’m vowing to you today isn’t my life but ours--the home we’ll make together, the times we’ll share. I promise to always have your back, to look out for you, to believe in you even when you don’t believe in yourself, so long as we’re both alive. Actually, maybe even if one of us dies first. If it’s me, sorry in advance for haunting you.”

Younghyun’s crying again, Jae grinning, triumphant as he slides the white gold band onto Younghyun’s fourth finger, over his engagement ring. Younghyun wipes his tears away with the sleeves of his suit.

He breathes noisily into his microphone. “Jeez. Okay. Try not to cry.”

Jae raises an eyebrow. “I’m not the one who can’t breathe.”

“Fair enough.” Younghyun laughs, taking a deep breath before he begins. “So, Jae. I didn’t write this down because everything I’m going to say today is stuff that I’ve been thinking for a long, long time. A lot of people get married on the premise of change--they think that it’s going to be a turning point in the relationship, that any problems with smooth themselves out. I think it’s supposed to be the opposite: I’m getting married to you because I want things to stay the same, to be the way they have been for years now in the sense that I want to laugh with you and cry with you and feel safe in your arms and kiss you awake when in the mornings. I want to appreciate you and hold you until the day that I can’t anymore--whether by hook or by crook. I’m so excited to finally permanently be in the same timezone as you, to be under the same roof. You’re always telling me about how I believed in you and about how I did this, did that, but the thing is it really wasn’t as selfless as all that. The thing is that I wanted you to like me back because you’re the kind of guy who just bleeds sunshine wherever he goes. Deep inside, I can be very pessimistic, a little temperamental. I’m a difficult guy to cheer up when I start to sulk--you would know. But the thing about is you is even when things get bad, you’re always encouraging people. Even when things seem bleak, you’re always there with comforting words--something out of a book, some words of comfort from a song. I promise that for as long as we both shall live, I’ll do my best to be worthy of your love and affection, to stand in the rays of your sunshine.”

Younghyun shakes his head as he breaks into a fit of sobs. Jae wants to say something witty, to crack another joke but he’s shaking too, both of them barely able to keep it together as Younghyun slips the ring up Jae’s fourth finger.

Dowoon and Wonpil had them tissues. They dab at their eyes, sniffling and trying to pull themselves together as the judge chuckles into the mic.

“So I take it you two definitely take each other to be each others’ lawfully wedded husbands?”

Younghyun cracks a grin, turns to Jae. “Last chance.”

“HAH. You wish.” Jae says, intertwining their fingers. He turns to the judge. “I do. To all of it. The having and holding and sick and health and fat or thin or whatever. All of it. I do, I do, I do.”

Younghyun grins, casting him a sidelong glance. “Slow down, bad boy.”

 

The reception is outside--the hotel courtyard dressed up with warm lights made to look like a billion small moons hanging low. The music is soft, ambient, _Can’t Help Falling In Love_ playing on piano at a slowed tempo. Jae and Younghyun sit at the main table, flanked by their parents, by Sungjin and Dowoon, Wonpil. Wonpil says something about how the decorations remind him of a Hobbit party--except no one disappears and no one’s being possessed by an evil ring. Jae cracks a remark about a wedding ring being kind of like an evil ring if you’re marrying a Capitalist. Younghyun rolls his eyes. They all look at Dowoon, who has since become a corporate lawyer. He ignores the remark, all of them erupting into a fit of laughter.

They all lean into the comfort of the evening breeze, the company of old friends, of family. They laugh about the wedding, Dowoon bragging about how _they_ didn’t cry at their wedding--Sungjin’s mom cuts him off by saying at least Younghyun and Jae had a wedding that their parents were invited to. Sungjin clinks his fork against his glass at that, taking that both as a cue and a means of avoiding opening a can of worms.

“Hi, everyone,” he says into the mic. “As the official wedding planner, I’d like to start the reception off by welcoming Mr. and Mr.--”--he glances down at the paper that Jae and Younghyun have handed him--”--are you guys serious?”

“Humor us,” Jae says, grinning. “Come on.”

Sungjin shakes his head a little, sighs before reading the text. “Let’s welcome Mr. and Mr. Jae and Younghyun Jaehyungparkian.”

Jae and Younghyun burst out laughing.

“They’re not serious, are they?” Mr. Kang asks Mrs. Park.

Mr. Park shakes his head. “I never know with those two.”

“Please,” Mrs. Kang says, glancing at Younghyun. “Pity the children.”

“It’s just for tonight,” Younghyun assures them. “Then we’ll decide. Maybe we’ll rock-paper-scissors for the last name.”

Jae grins. “It could be Kangyounghyunae. You’d be Kangyounghyunae Younghyun. You’ll have to change your business to Kangyounghyunae Industries.”

Younghyun squeezes his hand under the table, leans in to whisper in his ear. “Gladly.”

Jae kisses his cheek, nuzzles his temple with his nose.

“Anyway,” Sungjin says. “We’ll kick the night off with a speech from Younghyun’s Best Man, Mr. Kim Wonpil.”

Wonpil stands up, taking the microphone and raising his glass of champagne.

“So. Hello, everyone. I really wasn’t sure what to say for this speech so I figured I’d just say what I mean, plain and simple. I’ve never met two people better matched than Younghyun and Jae. Where Younghyun is grumpy--don’t deny it--Jae is easygoing, where Jae is anxious and hesitant, Younghyun is confident, defiant even. We spend such a big chunk of our lives searching for people who’ll understand us, people who will be there for us through the thick and thin, we always wish the best for the people that we love, we hope they’ll find the one: we rarely see it actually happen. So today, I thought I’d tell you guys about the moment, that instant in which I knew that these two were made for each other.”

Wonpil pauses for effect.

Jae and Younghyun look at him, both curious as to what he has to say.

“When we were younger, Jae used to really like drawing on comics and things and our group of friends used to have this Kris Kringle or like, Secret Santa tradition. One day, Jae went to my house and he left this tote bag of his inside. I didn’t know what or whose it was so of course, I peeked inside--”

Jae’s eyebrows shoot up, disappearing into his hairline. He starts to blush furiously. Younghyun looks at him curiously.

Wonpil grins, fond but sentimental.

“--and inside was this book of letters that he’d written for Younghyun, along with a mixtape of songs to listen to while he was on his way to Toronto. They weren’t together yet then but already, it read like a love letter. The subject matter was their favorite topic: how much they couldn’t stand each other, which by now everyone here will know isn’t true. Jae was just talking about the way that he hated Younghyun’s oversized shirts but it felt extremely private, it felt like an inside joke. I’ve always felt that love is a kind of inward language, something that’s built on friendship and the intricacies of conversation, of shared moments. Love is friendship on fire--I saw that on a keychain once and I think it’s true. Since accidentally getting that peek into that notebook, I kind of knew that these two would end up together or die trying. As you guys know, I had a very busy week, so I don’t have much in the way of a gift, but I guess I could play you guys a song to dance your first dance to.”

Younghyun and Jae grin at each other, both of them sentimental again.

Wonpil raises his glass. “Cheers to Mr. and Mr. Jaehyungparkian or Kangyounghyunae or whatever they decide to call themselves. Here’s to their first dance of many, I’m sure. This song is one Younghyun might recognize from years ago. It’s called When You Love Someone.”

Everyone raises their glasses. Jae and Younghyun clink their glasses together before Jae gets up, offers his hand to Younghyun, leading them out onto the dancefloor. Wonpil takes his seat at the piano.

He starts to play, the sweet melody filling the air.

Jae and Younghyun put their arms around each other, dancing slow, close. They watch each other, Younghyun looking up at Jae, backlit by the lanterns in the trees--the gold of the light like an aura around him. Jae looks fondly down at Younghyun, his face bright and happy.

“I change my mind,” Jae says.

“A bit late, don't you think--

“--about GDragon.”

Younghyun grins. “Oh yeah? You ready to move into the T.O.P. lane?”

Jae tips Younghyun’s chin up toward him before leaning down to kiss him softly. He shakes his head, gathering Younghyun to him so they’re dancing cheek to cheek. He whispers softly in Younghyun’s ear. “Into the Kang Younghyun lane.”

Younghyun grins, tightening his arms around Jae’s waist. “I love you, you dork.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please yell. 
> 
> PS if there are any typos, i'll correct them in the morning. goodnight!
> 
>  
> 
> [Commissions Information](http://https://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com/commissions-open/)  
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)  
> [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)  
> [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was beautiful. Your voice, the way you looked at me. It was all beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has stuck by this fic. This is one of the most emotional and meaningful fics that I’ve ever written--if for no one else, then for myself at least. Writing about friendship and family and love in terms of time has really helped put some things in perspective and I hope that that resonated with you guys somewhat, that this fic helped brighten up your days in whatever small way. The next AU will be a little bit more fun and upbeat and I hope you guys anticipate that one. :D

“Alone at last,” Younghyun says as he closes the door to their hotel room behind him with a click. The lights come on. The room is pristine--the king-sized bed is turned down with royal blue rose petals scattered on the duvet. There’s a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice, two flutes waiting on a small cart by the sofa. 

“Freaking finally.” Jae kicks off his shoes and pins Younghyun against the door, throwing his arms around Younghyun’s neck and pulling him into a soft kiss. 

When they pull apart, he lets his eyes linger on Younghyun’s, not quite believing that this is it: they’re finally together, finally bound to one another, finally about to start the life that they’d been working toward for nearly a decade. He lets their noses rub together, grinning as Younghyun’s eyes light up at the gesture.  _ So cute.  _

“You want to drink to that?” Younghyun nods to the bottle of champagne. 

Jae wiggles his eyebrows. ‘Hell yeah.”

They ease into the comforts of the room, discarding stiff jackets, loosening ties, belts. Younghyun pops the cork, pours them both a glass. Jae pushes open the balcony doors, steps outside.The night sky is star-studded. He leans against the balcony railing, looking down at the courtyard where some of the lights are still lit, some people still dancing. He can spot Dowoon and Sungjin sitting by the pool, their feet dangling in the water. Sungjin’s arm is around Dowoon, laughter erupting as Dowoon splashes him. Jae looks over at the ballroom, sees Wonpil’s silhouette through the window as he sits down to play the piano, an instrumental rendition of Goodbye Winter. 

“Champagne for your thoughts?” Younghyun comes up behind Jae, resting his chin on his shoulder and kissing his cheek before leaning on the railing beside him and handing Jae one of the champagne flutes. 

Their shoulders brush. Younghyun leans his head against Jae’s shoulder. Jae grins at the familiarity of him, the heft and shape and warmth of him. “I was just being sentimental for a bit--about everything. Our friends, our families, us. It was painful but it was beautiful too, you know? All the things we went through, all of the hardships, all of the struggling. We found a way to deal with everything.”

Younghyun grins. “What’d I tell you up on that highdive all those years ago? I told you you weren’t going to get rid of me that easy.” 

Jae leans in to kiss him softly. “Thank you for being you. Are you afraid at all? About the years to come? They say marriage is hard. It’s like that Maroon 5 song--it’s not all rainbows and butterflies.” 

Younghyun shrugs. “You know that The Academy Is.. song? It goes  _ take the pain out of love and the love won’t exist. _ It will be hard, I have no doubt--but the harder things get, the more beautiful we’ll emerge from it. And I’ve got you. I’m invincible with you. 

Jae feels his cheeks redden. “Flatterer.” 

Younghyun grins. “I’m dead serious. Didn’t you brighten up the lives of all the people who are here today? Didn’t you make your dreams come true through hard work and dedication? Didn’t you persevere through time and distance to fight for love? Aren’t you Park Jaehyung? ” 

Jae smiles, leaning back to contemplate Younghyun.  _ He’s so hot when he gets all serious.  _ “I guess I am.” 

“You  _ are _ .” Younghyun holds up his glass. “Here’s to us.” 

Jae recalls an old movie, one about love and Paris and time that his parents used to watch back in California. He clinks his champagne flute to Younghyun’s, holding his gaze. “Here’s looking at you, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand that’s it! Also, I have room for one more commission this season, so if you have anything in mind--hurry hurry lover run to me!
> 
> [Commissions Information](http://https://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com/commissions-open/)  
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)  
> [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)  
> 


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